NO PLAYS EXCHANGED, 



, 3089 

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« HCR'5 tDITloN 
. or PLAY3 



RIO GRANDE 




COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 






piays for /Amateur Sf^eatriealsl 

BV GEORGE TU^. BTCKER. 

Author of '■^ Amateur Dramas" ^^The Mimic Stage" ^^The Social Stage" "The Drawif 
Room Stage" "Hatidy Dramas^' ''^The Exkibition Dratncts" "A Buyer's Dozen" etc. 

Titles in this Type are New Plays. 

Titles in this Type are Temperance Plays, 



DRAMAS. 

In Four Ads 
Better than Gold. 7 male, 4 female 



char. 



In Three Ads, 

0\ir FolKs. 6 male, <, female char. 

The Flower of the Family. 5 
male, 3 female char 

Eniisted for the War. 7 male, 3 fe- 
male char 

Mv Brother's Keeper. 5, male, 3 fe- 
male char. <> . . . 

r/j« TAttle Uroivn tTtitf. 5 male, 3 
female char 

In Two A cis. 
Above the Cloudt^. 7 male, 3 female 

char. 

One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 

4 female char 

Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 

char. 

Bread ON THE Waters. 5 male, 3 female 

char 

Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 

char. . . . ' 

Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. 
The Last JLoaf. 5 male, 3 female char. 

In One A ct. 
oTAND BY THE Flag. 5 male char. . . 
rhe Tempter. 3 male, i female char. 

COMEDIES AND FARCES. 

A Mysterious Disappearance. 4 

male, 3 female char. 

Paddle Your Own Canoe. 7 male 

3 female char. . ' , . 

4. Drop too Much, 4 male, i female 

char. 

A Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 
female char 

Nevkr ^ay Die. 3 male, 3 female char. 

Seeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 
char. 

The Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 

The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 
male char. 

Thirty Minutes for -Refreshments. 

4 male, 3 female char. , ". . . » • 
We're all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- 
male char. 

Male Characters Only. 
A Close Shave, 6 char. ...... 

A Public Benefactor. 6 char. . . . 

A Sea of Troubles. 8 char 



COMEDIES, etc., continued. 

Male Characters Only. 

A Tender Attachment, 7 char. . . 15 

Coals OF Fire. 6 char. . . . . . J5 

Freedom of the Hress. S char. ... 15 

Shall Oar Mother-* Votf? 11 char. 15 

Gentlemen OF THH Jury. 12 char. . . 15 

Humors OF the Strike. 8 char. ... is 

My Uncle THE Captain. 6 char. . . . 15 

New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . 15 

'Ihe Great Elixir. 9 char 15 

I HK Hypochondriac. 3 char 15 

. he Man tvith the Demijohn. 4 

char IS 

The Runaways. 4 char 15 

The Thief OF Time. 6 char 15 

Wanted, A Male Cook. 4 char. . . . 15 

Female Characters Only. 

A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char 15 



A Precious Pickle. 6 char 

No Cure No Pay. 7 char 

The Champion OF Her Sex. 8 char. 
The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 char. 

The Grecian Bend. 7 char 

The Red Chignon. 6 char 

Using the Weed. 7 char 

ALLEGORIES. 

Arranged for Music and Tableaux, 

Lighthart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 
char 

The Revolt of the Bees. 9 female 
char 

The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 fe- 
male char. .......... 

The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- 
male char. • 

The War of the Roses. 8 female char. 

The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea. i male, i female 

Bonbons; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 
I female char ., 

Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet 
Restored. 3 male, i female char. 

Santa Claus' Frolics 

Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave, 
and the Fair Imogene. 3 male, i 
female char. 

The Merry Christmas of the Ojld 
Woman who Lived in a Shoe. . . . 

The Pedler or Very Nice. 7 male 
char • 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- 
ment. Numerous male and female char. 

Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. 

The Visions of Freedom. 11 female 
char. . . 



WiVLTER H. BAKER & CO., 23 Winter St„ Boston. 



RIO GRANDE 



Sn ©rijjinal ©rama in EJjite 3lcts 



BY 

CHARLES TOWNSEND 

AUTHOR OF "spy OF GETTYSBUKG" " UNCLE JOSH " "THE WOVEN WEB "" BOR- 
DER land" "e/vkly vows" "deception" "on guard" "miss 
madcap" "broken fetters" " shaun aroon " "the 

FAMILY doctor " " A BREEZY CALL " ETC. 



.^ 



AUTHOR'S EDITION 
BOSTON 



7^ 






CHARACTERS. 

Jose Segura, a wealthy Spanish-American. 

Col. Lawton, commanding the garrisoti. 

Capt. Paul Wybert, a junior officer. 

Judge Biggs, an enthusiastic citizen. 

Lieut. Cadwallader, an " American aristocrai,^^ and a holiday soldier. 

Johnnie Bangs, a dime-novel desperado. 

Corporal Casey, an old " vet.-'' 

Retta, Segurd's niece ^ in love with Paul. 

Sophia, Lawton's daughter, betrothed to Paul. 

MAfiiiE, Johfinie^s sister, a belle of the nineteenth century. 

Mrs. Biggs, the Judge'' s guiding star. 

T\^\v..—June, 1&84. 
Place. — Fort Lanark, N.M. 
Time of Representation, two hours and twenty minutes. 




Copyright, 1891, by C. F. Townsend. 



All Rights Reserved. 

Notice. — The author and proprietor of " Rio Grande " reserves to himself all right 
of performing the play in any part of the United States. This publication is for the 
benefit of such managers or actors as may have been duly authorized by the author or his 
agents to produce the drama. All other persons are hereby notified that any production 
of tliis play without due authority will be prosecuted by injunction for damages and other- 
wise, to the full extent of the law. 

To Amateurs. — The above notice does not apply to amateur dramatic clubs, which 
may perform the drama without permission. 



IX 



-dfs'oi 



COSTUMES. 

Segura. — Acfs I. and II. — White flannel suit ; wide-brim Mexican hat with 
gold cord ; diamond ring and stud ; long black mustache. Act III. — Uniform of 
Mexican general; blue coat, faced with red; gilt buttons; epaulets; dark blue 
trousers, slashed from knee to hem (outside seam), ornamented with rows of 
small gilt buttons ; Mexican hat ; sword-belt and sword ; gloves ; spurs. 

Lavvton. — Act I. — Full-dress uniform, colonel U. S. A. Acts II. and III. — 
Fatigue dress ; short, full beard, short hair, slightly gray. 

Wybekt. — Act I. — Full-dress uniform, captain U. S. A. Acts II. and III. 
— Fatigue dress, with sword-belt and sword ; light mustache. 

Biggs. — Acts I. a?td II. — Rusty black suit; soft hat ; gray hair, partly bald; 
short, gray side whiskers. Act III. — Same costume, only soiled and torn. 

Cadvvali ADER. — Act II. — Very " loud" imitation English travelling cos- 
tume; plaid trousers ; leggings ; short coat ; low-crown, double-visor cap ; field-glass 
in case, slung over shoulder ; walking-stick ; single eyeglass ; tiny pistol, cigarettes 
and matches in pocket. Act III. — Same as previous act, minus cap and all 
accessories ; clothing torn ; eye blackened. Second dress, ordinary walking suit. 

Bangs. — Acts II. and III. — Exaggerated "cowboy"' costume; rifle, knives, 
revolver. 

Casey. — Acts I. and II. — Uniform U. S. A. Chevrons of corporal on 
sleeves. 

Retta. — Act I. — Rich and elegant Spanish costume; short, quilted satin 
skirt ; short jacket, trimmed with scguins ; high, laced riding-boots ; white mantilla ; 
profusion of ornaments ; dagger. Act II. — Similar dress, but of brighter colors. 
Act III. — Same as first act, with mantilla of black lace. 

Sophia. — Act I. — Neat travelling costume. Act II. — House dress, appro- 
priate for summer. Act III. — Eight wrapper. 

Mamie. — Act I. — Rather "loud" tailor-made travelling dress. Acts II. 
a7id III. — House dress, slightly outre. 

Mrs. Biggs. — Acts I. II. atzd III. — Quiet house dress. 



PROPERTIES. 

{See also " Costumes " aiid " Scene Plot.''^) 

Act I. — Bugles and drums to sound off l. ; swords for Lavvton and Paul; 
dagger for Retta ; stiletto for Segura. 

Act n. — Eyeglass, cigarettes, and matches, walking-stick, tiny pistol, and 
field-glass in case with shoulder-strap, for Cadwall.'vder ; rifie, knives, and 
pistols for Johnnie; cigar, matches, and folded paper for Segura; swords for 
Lawton and Paul ; bugles to sound and band to play off L. 

Act hi. —Watch fur Mamie; rifle, etc., for Johnnie ; band to playoff l. u. e. ; 
swords for Segura, Paul, and Lawton ; folded paper for Segura ; liquor flask 
and glass on table. 

3 



STAGE SETTINGS. 
ACT I. 



\ 



Low 



Landscape Backing. 

, I Porch. I . 

/ I Door. I \ 



Low 



/ 




Window 



\ I 



Chair. 



I / 



Window, 



\ 



Chair. 



Po or. 



Chair 



Table 
air. Vy Chi 



Chair. 



Easy 

O 

Chair. 




ACT II. {See note beloiu.') 



Wing of House 
Porch 




Landscape. 



/ /Rustic 
/yseae. 



Rustic\ \ 
Seat. \ \ 









SCENE PLOT. 

Act I. — Sitting-room in Lawton's house in third grooves, with landscape 
and mountain backing in fifth grooves. Broad, low windows with draped curtains 
R. and L. in flat. Door c. in flat, opening on porch, also R. U. E. and L. u. v.. 
Closed in. Ceiling. Piano l. Easy-chair l. c. Chairs near windows and beside 
table up R. Pictures on walls. Carpet and rugs. 

Act II. — Lawn in fifth grooves. Landscape on flat shows distant mountains. 
Bright sunlight effects. Sky border and sinks. House witli practicable porcli 
extends from R. u. E., one-third across stage. Balance of r. is a vine-covered 
lattice, with arches R. u. e. and r. i e. All l. wings are trees. Rustic seats 
R. and L. 

Act III. — Same as first act, except that curtains are drawn, and a lighted 
lamp is on table. Lights partly down. Landscape at first shows faint moonlight 
effects, which changes to early sunlight when curtains are draped back. 

Note. — On a small stage, or where the scenery is limited, the second act may be 
played without change of scenery.. 



REMARKS ON THE PLAY. 

This is a play of Western army life, but the army is only sug- 
gested. There are no b-'Ule scenes, Indians, horses, cowboys, nor 
red fire. The play is ntirely domestic in treatment ; and the 
exciting events which follow in rapid succession are rational effects 
from self-evident causes. The characters are well diversified, the 
aciion is brisk, and the interest is sustained until the last moment. 
In considering the relation of the characters to each other and to 
the story, the following suggestions by the author will be of 
interest. 

Segura is a peculiar character, and should be studied with the 
utmost care. He is a man of wealth, education, and refined taste. 
He speaks pure English, with but the faintest possible accent. 
His bearing is easy, graceful, self-confident, and he appears to be a 
gentleman at all times, excepting when aroused by passion. And 
even then he should quickly recover his customary suave, polite 
manner. Avoid all melodramatic business, especially any glaring, 
stamping, hissing, or other stilted work. The cynical speeches 
should be given quietly, and with no appearance of studied efibrt. 
His age is about tiiirty-five, and the make-up is that of a Spaniard, 
— a trifle darker than usual, — with black hair, eyebrows and mus- 
tache. He speaks with quick, nervous energy, and his movements 
are energetic and forcible. 

La WTON is a man of fifty or thereabouts. He is quick and rather 
dogmatic in speech, usually exhibiting the bluff, positive manner of 
the successful military man. His face should be bronzed from 
exposure, and his hair and beard should be slightly gray. 

Wybekt is the orthodox young lover. He is a high-spirited, 
quick-tempered man of twenty-five or thirty, and should be com- 
paratively free from self-restraint in order to show up well in his 
interviews with Sophia and Segura. He wears a mustache and 
his face is slightly bronzed. 

BiGGS is a man of fifty-five, stout, florid, partly bald, with short, 
gray side whiskers. His style is brisk, pompous, and grandilo- 
quent. This is a comedy character throughout, and may be given 
considerable latitude. Deliver his long speeches 7-apidIy, as the 
part will bear no draggmg. 

Cadwallader must never be over-acted. The tendency indeed 
should be in the opposite direction, for to caricature this part is to 
ruin it. Immobility of countenance must be retained at all times, 
and the soft, effeminate style should be preserved until after his 
interview with Mamie in the third act. His gestures should be 
few and stilted ; and particular care should b^ taken to avoid over- 
doing the drawl in his speech. His age is about twenty-one. 

Bangs. This character is simply that of a "fresh" young 
American, about seventeen years of age. Avoid overacting, espe- 

5 



6 REMARKS ON THE PLAY. 

cially when assuming the"touoh/' His speech should be rapid, 
his movements brisk and snappy. 

Casey is a typical stage Irishman, having nothing to particularly 
distinguish him from others of his class, except that, being a 
soldier, he must at all times assume an erect, military bearing. 

Retta is a difficult character to assume, and requires the most 
thorough and careful study to portray it with proper effect. She is 
called upon to represent such varying passions, — love, hate, joy, 
grief, anger, sorrow, jealousy, remorse, hope, fear, and the like, — 
that none but a careful, earnest actress should attempt the role.. 
Petulance should be strictly avoided, together with all forced or 
unnatural emotion. It is very easy to overact a character of this 
sort ; and when that is done, the effect is grotesque. Quiet intensity 
is the most effective, and at no time should there be an attempt at 
high tragedy. The gestures should be few, and the voice should 
be pitched rather low than high. Retta's age is about sixteen, and 
her make-up should be that of an ideal Spanish girl, — a Castilian, 
dark, with black hair and eyebrows. The lady who assumes this 
part must needs look the character as well as act it. 

Sophia should be played with much life, animation, and con- 
siderable freedom from restraint. Although the character is much 
lighter than Retta's, yet there should be a certain amount of 
dignified restraint underlying even her lightest moods, as she has 
considerable serious business, especially in her interviews with 
Paul and Segura. Her age is nineteen years. 

Mamie is an mgeujie, and therefore it is particularly necessary 
that she assume an air of unconscious innocence when delivering 
her somewhat "rapid" speeches. The least exhibition of self-con- 
sciousness destroys the illusion, and the character wearies instead 
of amusing. To be really effective, her words and actions must 
appear unstudied and free from all restraint. Age, about nineteen. 

Mrs. Biggs is the characteristic "old woman." In this play she 
should be fat, fair, and — fifty. Her scene with Mamie at the 
close of the second act is very effective, if well done, and very, ^'ery 
flat, if it is allowed to drag. Indeed, this character requires much 
vivacity in every scene, a fact which should be constantly borne in 
mind. 

Particular attention must be given the music, which is an 
important factor, especially at the close of the second act. In the 
heavier scenes allow plenty of time for the necessary business, but 
keep the action brisk in the comic passages. The success of this 
play depends to a great extent upon the elaboration of the by-play 
and business ; therefore, especial care should be observed in cast- 
ing the characters, and the play should never be presented without 
the most thorough and careful rehearsal. 

Special Note. — The uniforms for Lawton and Wvbert may be procured 
in any town having a miUtary company or Grand Army Post. Elsewhere blue 
flannel suits will answer every purpose. 



RIO GRANDE, 



ACT I. 

Scene. — Sitting-room at Lawton's, in 2,d grooves. Door c. ifi 
flat opefiing 07i practicable porch. Doors., r. u. e. and l. u. e. 
Stage set as per " Scene Plot.'''' Discover Biggs asleep in easy- 
chair., \.. Q. Bugles and drums sound of I., u. e. 

Bigg's, {sleepily^. Achoo ! a-a-achoo ! achoo ! Shut the door! 
Confound you! shut — the — door! Why the devil — ( Yawns.') 
Bless my soul, if I haven't been a — {yazvns) sleep. Hanged if 
I couldn't sleep ihirty-six hours a day without half trying. It's the 
a — {^yawns) climate. That's what it is, the climate. \Yaw}is.) 

{Enter Mrs. Biggs, r. u. e., to c.) 

Mrs. Biggs. It's laziness, Mr. Biggs ; that's what it is — lazi- 



ness 



Biggs. Mrs. Biggs ! 

Mrs. B. Mr. Biggs! 

Biggs. Do you mean to stand there, as it were, Mrs. Biggs, 
under the high-arched dome of the Empyrean heavens, and assert 
that I — I — J.udge Jeremiah Biggs, am slothfully sluggish .'' 

Mrs. B. Just so, Jerry. You know you are the laziest man on 
the Rio Grande. 

Biggs. Draw a line at the greasers, Mrs. Biggs ; draw a line 
at the greasers, if you have any respect for my feelings. 

Mrs. B. Well, what are you loafing about here for '^ 

Biggs. Loafing, Mrs. Biggs ? loafing ? Understand me : I am 
here on business — particularly importantly pressing business. 

Mrs. B. Business ! You .? Ha, ha, ha ! O Jerry ! {Goes L. 
laughing.) 

Biggs. Mrs. Biggs (she langhs), Mrs, Biggs — I ^— you (she 
laughs) Mrs. Biggs — burr-r-r-r ! (Another laugh.) Well, then, 
damn it, laugh — damn it, laugh ! (Crosses R.) 

Mrs. B. There now, Jerry ; don't lose your temper, Jerry. 
You would be in an awful pickle without it. 

Biggs. Mrs. Biggs, your hilarity is inconsequential, paradoxi- 
cal, condemnationable, and I'll be everlastingly — • 

7 



8 RIO GRANDE. 

Mrs. B. Jeremiah Biggs ! 

Biggs. As it were. Ahem. To resume : The colonel, as you 
know, expects his daughter and several friends from the effete and 
decaying East to visit our untrammelled, free, and boundless West. 
They will arrive to-day. And I, as a representative citizen of this 
great and glorious country, consider it my paramount duty to 
receive them with hospitable arms, and show them the inconceiva- 
ble wonders which await them. 

Mrs. B. And get laughed at for your pains. 

Biggs. Laugh at me — at me — me, Judge Biggs! You don't 
know what you're talking about. I'd fine 'em for contempt of 
court. Laugh at me ! {Crosses l.) 

Mrs. B. At all events, Miss Lawton will require none of your 
overpowering information. 

Biggs. No, bless her heart ! and if she did, I'd deputize Capt. 
Wybert. 

Mrs. B. They're engaged, you know. 

Biggs. No, I did not know, you know. By some occult demon- 
stration a woman can locate an engagement anywhere between 
New York and Sah Francisco. Engaged, eh ? And what will 
Seiior Segura do when he hears of it ? 

Mrs. B. Who cares what he does ? He's nothing but a 
Mexican. 

Biggs. You're mistaken, my dear. Sefior Segura is a Spanish- 
American, rich as mud, and proud as Lucifer. Still, I hope that 
your information regarding Capt. Wybert and Miss Sophia is 
correct. And I shall be most delightfully happy if, in my official 
capacity as magistrate, I am called upon to unite them in the 
beauteous bonds of holy matrimony. Here upon the classic banks 
of the far-famed Rio Grande ; in this lovely land o'erflowing with 
milk and honey ; with its gold, silver, copper, lead, iron, salt, Indians, 
greasers, and other rare and rank commodities {exit Mrs. Biggs, 
disoiisted, r. u. e.) too somewhat numerous to mention ; where 
the glowing golden sunlight falls across the opalescent-tinted 
mountains, those watchful sentinels of our limitless empire which 
throw their mystic shadows athwart the bounding river {enter 
Casey, c. d.), where men may come, and men may go, but I go on 
forever. 

Casey. Then why the divil don't ye ? By the piper that played 
before Moses, I belave ye air capable av it. 

Biggs. Ah, corporal, I can't go on. I am — 

Cas. Stuck ? Ye don't mane it! 

Biggs. .With this glowing picture before me, words fail to 
express my emotion. 

Cas. Shure that's jist what I thought "tother day whin I kim 
down hard upon the business ind av a scorpion. 

Biggs. You should never mind those trifiing things. 

Cas.^ Trifling? Shure it made me a lump as big as me two 
fists. 



RIO GRANDE. 9 

Biggs. Your soul should be above the mere discomfort of a 
lump. 

Cas. Aha, but the lump was not on me sowl at all, at all ! 

Biggs. Good-by, corporal. I am going over to the railroad 
station where I shall await, with judicial calmness, the momentarily 
expected arrival of Miss Lawton and her most distinguished 
friends from the East. Therefore, ^c/Z^j- {at c. d.). In the language 
of the poet, I must get me hence away. {Exit c. d.) 

Cas. Now what the divil does he mane by gittin' his hins 
away? Faith he kapes no hins at all excipt a few geese an' 
turkeys. He's a quare ould bird. I'm thinking he's mistooken 
his vocation. He ought to have been a phonograph — or else a 
mother-in-law. 

{Enter Lawton, c. d.) 

I.AWTON. Casey ! 

Cas. {salutnig). Sor ? 

Law. Take a train wagon, with a couple .of men, and drive over 
to the station for the baggage of the party. 

Cas. Yis, sor. {Salutes, goifig.') 

Law. And, Casey — 

Cas. {saluting). Yis, sor. 

Law. Be lively. 

Cas. Yis, sor, {Salutes, going.') 

Law. And, Casey — 

Cas. {saluting). Yis, sor. 

Law. a — that's all. 

Cas. Yis, sor. {Salutes, exit C. D.) 

Law. And so my little girl is coming back again to her soldier 
father and soldier lover. I suppose we shall have that precious 
Segura hanging about here again. With all his wealth and ability 
I cordially dislike the fellow, and to — 

{Enter Segura, c. n.from r.) 

speak of the devil ! {Goes l.) 

Segura. A thousand compliments, Col. Lawton, from your 
devoted servant. 

Law. {stiffly). Thank you, Senor Segura. 

Seg. Has your beautiful and accomplished daughter arrived 
yet ? I was told that you expect her to-day. 

Law. My daughter has not yet arrived. 

Seg. It will be such happiness to welcome her return. She, 
the life, the grace, the joy, of the garrison. 

Law. Thank you. 

Seg. And I venture to hope that she will return whole- 
hearted ? 

Law. Indeed! And I venture to hope that the question is her 
own affair. {Crosses r.) 



lO RIO GRANDE. 

Seg. (l.). Ah — the colonel will have his little joke. {Aside.) 
Damn the colonel ! 

Law. You must excuse me, seiior. I have some business 
requiring attention. Make yourself comfortable {aside) ; and be 
hanged to you ! {Exit R. u. e.) 

Seg. Thank you. {Bows ve)y low.) The most comfortable 
thing I could do would be to run a knife under his fifth rib. I dis- 
like him ; I detest the girl ; I hate the whole cursed American 
tribe ; but to get her in my power, — to crush the proud beauty as 
1 crush my peons, — for that I would be fool enough to marry her. 
And the man who marries without just provocation, is the biggest 
fool possible. 

{Enter Retta, quickly., c. Ti. from l.) 

Retta. O uncle ! I saw him, uncle ! {Looks oJf'L.) 1 saw 
him ! He is here. 

Seg. Who? 

Ret. Who ? Why, Paul — Capt. Wybert. He doesn't know 
that we have arrived. Won't it be a surprise ? Oh, I am so 
happy ! 

Seg. Bah ! You simpleton ! Have you no sense .'* If you 
want to lose your adorable captain altogether, just throw yourself 
at his head. 

Ret. I don't want to lose him ! I don't {stamping) ! I won't 
lose him ! He shall love me — he must — or I will — 

Seg. Finish your sentence ; or — you will kill him. Exactly. 
That is a part of woman's inheritance from Mother Eve. 

Ret. I — I would not harm him. 

Seg. No? Not if he trampled on your heart — made it his 
plaything — cast off your love for another — flouted you — scorned 
you ? (Retta nervon'sly clasps handle of dagger.) Ah ! I thought 
you would find that interesting. 

Ret. But he will not — he cannot forget that I saved his life 
after he was shot in that battle with the Indians. 

Seg Possibly not. But some day you will learn, my dear, that 
we men have short memories for past favors. Did this captain 
make love to you ? 

Ret. No — not very much. I — I did about all the love-mak- 
ing. 

Seg. Without doubt ; and therein you played the fool. Re- 
member this fact : We " lords of creation " prefer to do the love- 
making and lying ourselves. {Goes np R.) When woman tries 
to woo she makes a mess of it, for she speaks the truth and — 
scares the game. {Exit R. u. e.) 

Ret. I wish I knew what he was talking about. It sounds 
very pretty and grand, but — oh, there he comes — there he 
comes ! {Retires 2ip l.) 



RIO GRANDE. II 

{Enter Paul, c. ii.,frofn l.) 

Paul {dowti c). Sophia has arrived, and in about ten minutes 
I shall be the happiest fellow in New Mexico. Ten minutes .'' 
It's more like ten years. (Si'/s.) But I must not be impatient. 
Only I hope there won't be a crowd of the juniors taj^ging after. 
(Retta sh'ps quietly behind him and covers his eyes with her 
hands.) Hello! Oh, you rascal! I know who it is. I'll guess 
the first time. It is — it — is Sophia ! 

Ret. {indignantly). It is not / {Crosses R.) 

F A\SL {rising). Retta! {Aside.) O Lord! 

Ret. Who is Sophia ? 

Paul. Eh ? 

Ret. Who is Sophia ? 

Paul. Why — she is my — er — Miss Sophia Lawton. 

Ret. What is she to you t 

Paul. Eh.? 

Ret. Um ! {Stamping.) What — is — she — to you ? 

Paul. She is — we are — er — I mean I am — {Aside.) Oh, 
hang it all ! 

Ret. Well, sir ! 

Paul. Look here, Retta ! You have no right to question me 
in this manner, and you know it. 

Ret. Paul ! Have you forgotten — 

Paul. No, I am profoundly grateful for your good services 
when I lay wounded at your home. I would gladly be your friend 
if I could. But — pardon me — mere friendship seems impossible 
with you. 

Ret. O Paul, Paul ! I cannot believe it. {Embracing him.) 
Tell me you will — tell me — 

Paul. Good heavens, Retta! Can't you understand — don't 
you see — 

{Enter Lawton, c. d.) 

Law. Wybert — (Retta goes l.) 

Paul {saluting). Sir .? 

Law. {down c). Some scouts have brought in a report. I 
wish you would receive it. 

Paul. Yes, sir. {Aside to Lawton.) For heaven's sake, get 
rid of her. 

Law. Who is she ? 

Paul. Segura's niece ; the beautiful devil who saved my life 
last summer. 

Law. Present me. 

Paul. Retta — allow me to present Col. Lawton ; Colonel, the 
— the Sefiora Segura. I am called away on duty, so pray excuse 
me. {Aside.) Blessed relief! {Exit c. d. to R.) 

Law. When did you arrive. Miss Retta? 

Ret. a half-hour ago. 



12 RIO GRANDE. 

Law. Then you came with your uncle ? 

Ret. Yes. He had been here often, and this time I begged 
him to let me come. I wanted to see Paul, you know. 

Law. 'Hem — undoubtedly; but I fear you will see very little 
of him. He is engaged — 

Ret. Engaged ? 

Law. In military duties, you know. {Aside.) What a little 
fury ! 

Ret. Military duties — oh, certainly. Capt. Wybert is a born 
soldier. 

Law. My daughter will be here directly, and I am sure that 
she will be delighted to welcome you as her guest, and to thank 
you for your Good Samaritan work with Capt. Wybert. {Goes 
up c.) 

Ret. So — then your daughter is — 

Law. {at c. d.). Here at last. {Comes down R. Retta goes 
up L.) 

{Enter Sophia, quickly^ c. T>.from l.) 

Soph, {ninning to Lawton). Oh, you dear, dear, darling old 
papa! {Embracing him.) How glad I am! How well you are 
looking ! Where is Paul ? 

Law. Receiving reports. He will be here directly. By the 
way, let me introduce you to Paul's good angel, who saved his life 
last summer. Seiiora Segura — may I have the pleasure — my 
daughter, Miss Lawton. 

Soph, {crossing to her). Who cannot thank you enough for 
your — 

Ret. Keep your thanks, if you please, until they are wanted ! 
{Exit R. u. E.) 

Soph, {suiprised). Of all things ! And he called her an 
angel ! 

Law. {aside). Whew ! I smell a rat. {They go up L.) 

{Enter BiGGS a7id Mamie, c. Ti.from l.) 

Biggs. Ladies — ahem — ah — yes. This is the most beatific 
moment of my mundane, corporal existence. To welcome to the 
hospital)le shores of the glorious Rio Grande the quintessence of 
youth and beauty, from the far-distant East — the American Ori- 
ent, as it were ; to extend the right hand of joyful fellowship 
across the broad continent, bidding hail with stentorian lungs to 
the fair denizens of the sounding seaboard, and to clasp {sees 
Mamie calntly observing hi?n) — and to clasp, er — {same busi- 
7iess) to clasp — er — ahem — {same bnsijtess) yes, as it were. 

Mamie. Wind him up again ! He's run down ! 

Biggs. Eh ? 

Mam. Say, do you sell real estate ? 

Biggs. Real estate } {Aside.) Bless my soul ! 



RIO GRANDE. 1 3 

Mam. Because that's just the sort of comic opera a fellow gave 
the governor and me one day when we went to view a country- 
place in Jersey. My ! He was a whole brass band, that fellow. 

Biggs. Was he mendacious — so to speak ? 

Mam. You mean was he a liar. Oh — no. He told the truth 
— great, big, square chunks of it. Said the soil was awfully won- 
derful — could raise anything. He was q. c. — quite correct. The 
governor raised a mortgage the first thing; and Johnnie — that's 
my brother — he raised um — (^poi)iting downwards) all summer 
long. 

Biggs {aside). I'm paralyzed. — Excuse me, please. I want 
to go away somewhere and think. Judge Biggs, you've met your 
match ! O woman ! O woman ! O woman ! {Exit R. u. e.) 

Mam. Done up in a single round. Next. 

Soph, {comes dow?i with Lavvton). Mamie — let me present 
my father, Col. Lawton ; my friend, Miss Bangs. 

Law^. I am very glad to meet you. 

Mam, Thanks awfully. Who is that antique orator "^ 

Law, Judge Biggs — a capital old fellow, with a wonderful ca- 
pacity for saying nothing. But where are the others ? 

Mam. Johnnie is getting his gun. He wants to shoot a few 
buffalo or Indians or tigers or something before dinner ; and Mr. 
Cadwallader is back there helping your Irish corporal swear at 
the trunks. 

Law. Helping Casey ? 

Mam. Yes ; Lieut. Cadwallader swears dreadfully. I have 
really known him to say, " Bah Jove." 

Law. {/la if aside). The devil ! 

Mam. No — the dude ; but usually the lieutenant is very lady- 
like. 

Law. And so you had a military escort. 

Soph. Oh, yes ; Lieut. Cadwallader is an N. G. soldier. 

Law. Eh ? 

Mam. N. G. S. N. Y. He is in the National Guard— -the 
Dude's Own. (Crosses to Lawton, l.) 

{Enter Paul, c. d.) 

Paul. Sophia ! 

Soph. O Paul! 

Mam. Go ahead. We won't look. {Converses with Law- 
ton ) 

Paul. And you are really back again ? {They stand swinging 
hands.) 

Soph. Really — really — really ! 

Paul. Now I wonder if it is yourself. 

Mam. Bite her and see. 

Paul. Thank you. {Kisses Sophia.) 

Mam. Well ? 



14 RIO GRANDE. 

Paul. Genuine, I think. Til make sure this time. {Attempts 
to repeat kiss.) 

Soph. Be-have ! Let me present you. Mamie, allow me — 

Mam. Oh, bother! It's Capt. Wybert and I'm Miss Bangs. 
Don't waste valuable time. {Going.) 

Soph. You need not go, Mamie. 

Mam. Of course not. We wouldn't dream of it, would we, 
Colonel .? {Takes Lawton's ann and exits R. u. e.) 

Paul. Rather rapid, isn't she } 

Soph. It is fashionable. 

Paul. Indeed .'* Then to be up to the times, a girl of this 
happy period must square her shoulders, talk horse, wear her 
brother's hat and coat, and shame the devil with slang. 

Soph. Oh, you cynic ! And yet you pretend to love one of 
these dreadful creatures. 

Paul. But you are not fashionable. 

Soph. Oh, thank you ! 

Paul. I mean in that way. 

Soph. No. 

Paul. Thank Heaven for it. Tell me about the others. 

Soph. Johnnie is her brother. There is Celtic blood in the 
family, and he has the most of it — mischief and all. He is a 
dreadful dime-novel desperado. Our otlier guest is 'Lieut. Cad- 
wallader, a holiday soldier, whose knowledge of war is limited to 
a week once a year in the State encampment, and a weekly drill at 
the armory. They are very anxious to kill a few Indians 

Paul. And they will have a chance. 

Soph. A chance } Surely — O Paul, you don't expect trouble ? 

Paul. At any moment. The authorities at Washington, ac- 
cording to custom, have fed, clothed, and petted the red devils all 
winter ; and now that summer is here we may expect an outbreak 
at any point. 

Soph. But not here ? 

Paul. Very likely. I have received a report from our scouts, 
and they tell me trouble is brewing. 

Soph, {half oyino). Then you will go and get shot again, and 
that horrid Spanish girl — 

Paul. Tut, tut ; she saved my life, remember. 

Soph. And now she claims it, too. Oh, I saw the demon of 
jealous hatred in her eyes when I tried to thank her. {Crosses R.) 

Paul {aside). There will be an awful row. 

Soph. I suppose it is very flattering to you. 

Paul. Now, my darling, don't you be jealous. 

Soph. Well — who has a better right ? 

Paul. Nobody of course. But come now, don't make us both 
unhappy over nothing. 

Soph. Is she nothing ? 

Paul. To me .? Yes. 

Soph. But don't you admire her ? Be careful now ! 



RIO GRANDE. I 5 

Paul. I admire her pluck When my horse went down in that 
mad charj^e, and I lay wounded and helpless at the mercy of an 
ambushed gang of Apaches, it was she alone who rode like a whirl- 
wind into the crowd and whipped them single handed. Isn't that 
somethirig to admire ? 

Soph. \douhtfuIly). Ye— yes. But you won't fall in love with 
her because of that "i 

Paul. No. 

Soph. Never, never, never? 

Paul. Never — never — never. 

Soph. Then you may — 

Paul. Seal the compact ? I will. {Kisses her.) 

{Enter Segura, r. u. e., comes down c.) 

Paul. There — the sky is clear again. 

Seg. My compliments to Miss Lawton. 

Soph. Oh, Senor! {Crosses \..) 

Paul {aside). Confound the Seiior ! 

Seg, Are we to have amateur theatricals at the garrison ? 

Soph. Amateur theatricals ? 

Seg. And perhaps I interrupted a rehearsal. 

Paul. Sir, do you — 

Seg. Don't be offended. These little comedies are so very 
amusing. Of course if it were possible to be serious upon such an 
occasion, the result might be disastrous — at least to some. (Sophia 
goes 7ip l.) 

Paul. What do you mean, sir ? Do you infer — 

Seg. Nothing whatever. To a man like you, inference is quite 
unnecessary. 

Paul. What in the devil are you driving at .'' 

Seg. Bah ! A blind man should see. 

Paul, Perhaps you want a quarrel. 

Seg. Really .? 

Paul {hotly). If you do, sir, you will find me — 

Seg. Don't exert yourself. I only quarrel with ^^^;///^;;/^;/. 

Paul. You've gone too far, sir. I've a mind — 

Seg. You forget. There is a lady present. If you want satis- 
faction, I shall be most happy to furnish it, when and where you 
choose. 

Paul. And you may be sure I will! {They go np R. and c.) 

{Enter Mamie, quickly, c. d.) 

Mam. Oh, I'm dead! I'm dead! I know I am! 

Soph, {beside her). Poor child ! What killed you ? 

Mam. You needn't laugh at me, so now! 

Paul (l). But what was it .^ 

Mam. a great, horrid, awful, terrible alligator! 

All. What ! 



1 6 RIO GRANDE. 

• 
Mam. I don't care. It was an alligator or — or something. And 
it jumped right at my stock — er — ahem ! — Well, you know. 
Paul. It was the — ha, ha, ha! {Goes up L., laughing^ 
Mam. Oh, was it .^ Well, I'm glad I've found out — awfully! 
Soph. It belongs to the Judge. Don't be frightened. Doubt- 
less he thought you were a — a — {tinns azcaj', laughing) ha, ha, 
ha! 

Mam. If the Judge thinks I'm a "ha, ha, ha," Til break my 
parasol over his head ! 

{Entc?- Casf,y, c. d.) 

Mam. Corporal, did you see him ? 

Cas. {sa/Mting). Indade I did ; an' who is he ? 

Mam. That dreadful monster? 

Soph. The Judge's pet. 

Cas. Ye mane the lizard. Shure I did, Miss, an' it threw me 
into a state av temporary insanity, so it did. {Aside to Paul.) 
The Colonel is axin' fur ye, sor ; more scouts have arrived, and the 
divil an' all is to pay. An' av ye plaze, sor, he sez kape mum. 

Paul. All right. (Casey salutes and exit c. d.) 

Mam. {glancing at Segura). Who is the mysterious stranger? 

Paul. A — Spanish-American. 

Mam. Gentleman or "gent"? 

Paul. Neither. 

Mam. Stupendous ! Present him. 

Paul. Excuse me. {Bo2us and exit c. D.) 

Mam. {aside). Um — case of green-eyed monster ; dark green, 
too ; b-a-d case. 

Soph. Come, Mamie, let me show you my cabinet of minerals. 

Seg. {doiun e.). Pardon me, ladies ; but will Miss Lawton favor 
me with a brief interview — in private? 

Soph, {aside). Oh, dear ! 

Mam. {aside). Another victim! Oh, my — gimini ! {Exit 
R. u. e.) 

Seg. Be seated, pray. {They sit l.) What I desire to say, 
Miss Lawton, has been in my mind for a long time. I should have 
spoken before this ; but you will readily understand that a man of 
my rank and station in life cannot permit himself to be hasty in 
judgment. Therefore, as the subject which I am about to pres- 
ent — have I the honor of your attention? — thank you; as the 
subject is one of vital importance, it has been well considered, in 
all its bearings! My estates beyond the Rio Grande, as you may 
know, are princely in extent, with mines which yield a royal ransom 
every year. My flocks and herds are countless, and unnumbered 
peons are mine to command. All this, with heart and hand, I lay 
at your feet. I await your answer. 

Soph. Senor Segura, you honor me too much ; I — I am — 

Seg. Not at all. It is I who will be honored. Have I then 
permission to address your father ? 



RIO GRANDE. 1/ 

Soph. Believe me, Seiior, I appreciate your oflfer, but — {rising) 
it would be useless. 

Seg. Useless — indeed ? {Rising.) May I venture to ask the 
reason .'' 

Soph. Because — I — 

Seg. Go on, please. Because? — 

Soph. Frankly, then, I do not love you. 

Seg. That is wholly unnecessary. 

Soph. Seiior ! 

Seg. Certainly. I am quite in earnest, I assure you. Love is 
all very well in the abstract, but it borders too closely on hate for 
comfort. Esteem and regard are much pleasanler. And assuredly 
you respect me — do you not } 

Soph. Yes — but respect without love — 

Seg. Is all I ask. 

Soph. Then seek a woman who will wed you on those terms. 
If I loved you, which I do not ; if I were free to wed you — 
which I am not — 1 would never disgrace my American birth by 
giving my hand in such contemptible barter. {C^'osses R.) 

Seg. An excellent doctrine. What a pity it is that your title- 
hunting American sisters do not oftener observe it ! 

Soi'H. That sneer is unworthy of you, Seiior. {Going.) 

Seg. {stopping Jicr). Pardon me. If I heard rightly, you inti- 
mated that your hand is already pledged. I take it for granted 
then that the little comedy I witnessed between you and your up- 
start Captain was a beautiful and romantic scene from real life — 
on your own part, at least. 

Soph. You grow insulting, sir. Let me pass. 

Seg. Answer me this — 

{Enter Paul, quickly, c. d.) 

Paul. Answer him nothing ! 

Seg. How, sir ! 

Soph. Paul, I entreat you — 

Paul. One moment. {Enter Retta, r. u. e., remaining 
quietly at bac/c.) This lady will answer no questions from you. 
{So^\\\A goes to L. c.) 

Seg. Astonishing! And why not ? 

Paul {hotly). Because she is a lady ; because she is my 
affianced wife, and as such will hold no communication with a 
greaser like you ! {Exit with Sophia, l. u. e. As he turns mvav, 
Segura witJi a muttered curse draws knife and is about to fol- 
low., when Retta throws herself in front of him, clasping her 
arms around his jieck.) 

Ret. No, no, no ! 

Seg. {strivi?ig to break loose). Stand aside! I tell you — 
stand aside ! 

Ret. What would you do 1 

Seg. {savagely). And what would you do ? 



I 8 RIO GRANDE. 

Ret. Nothing. 

Seg. Ay, but you would. You would have me spare the life of 
that upstart beggar who has crossed my path, scorned your love, 
and broken your heart. {Crosses l.) 

Ret. Perhaps he — he will yet remember — 

Seg. Humph ! Are you such a fool as that ? 

Ret. But I — oh, I cannot bear it — I cannot bear it. {Drops 
hi to chair by table ^ 

Seg. And are you so weak — you in whose heart beats the 
proudest blood of old Castile ? Then pity him, weep for him, pray 
for him, while he laughs and jeers at your misery ! 

Ret. Oh ! 

Seg. And perhaps your rival — 

Ret. {quickly^. My rival ! 

Seg. Yes, your rival — your scornful, doll-faced rival — will 
laugh with him. Oh, it will be rare sport ! 

Ret. {springing up). Tell me, tell me what I can do. 

Seg. Ah, you are touched at last ! 

Ret. Plan, contrive, conjure up something, anything, however 
devilish, which shall make her feel the agony that I endure. 

Seg. Kneel, then, and repeat my words. {She kneels c.) "I 
swear by the Blessed Mother — that while life remains — I will 
stop at nothing — until my wrongs are righted." {She repeats.) 
There ! {Draws her to hi?n.) Now you are, indeed, worthy of 
the land that gave you birth ! 

Quick Curtain. 

ACT II. 

Scene. —La%vn in ^th grooves ; entrances l., through tree wings 
and through arches^ R. u, e. a7id R. i E. Practicable porch to 
set house R. w. E ; rustic scats R. and L. 

{Enter Mamie and Cadwallader, l. u. e.) 

Mam. There — it's over with, 

Cadwallader. Ya-as. And Pm awfully glad. 

Mam. Wasn't the drilling perfectly splendid ? 

Cad. Well, I cawn't say that it was. Some of the men looked 
like vawy common fellahs, and I don't like the cut of their uniforms 
at all, don't you know. I don't like men whose clotlies don't fit. 

Mam. But 1 thought they got there in their evo-what-do-you- 
call-ems in great shape. 

. Cad. Oh, ya-as — they did do vawy well foh ordinary pwofes- 
sioual soldiers, don't you know, but of cawse they cawn't compaw 
with our wegiment. 

Mam. And, besides, they haven't any officers like you. 

Cad. No, indeed, they haven't. Fellahs who follow a militawy 



RIO GRANDE. IQ 

twade foh pay, cawn't expect to equal gentlemen who dwill fob 
pastime. 

Mam. Of course not. {Aside.) Oh, isn't he a delicious guy .? 

Cad, And then this dweadful out-of-the-way place must wuin 
all the finah feelings. No cigawettes, no soda watah, no vapoh 
baths, no stage doahs, no kettledwums, — 

Mam. And sometimes the soldiers really do have to fight ! 

Cad. Isn't it dweadful! Think of soldiers fighting! My 
wegiment ?/^7/^/z does anything like that! But I suppose it's all 
wight enough foh these common soldiers. 

Mam. It's lucky that you are no common soldier. 

Cad. Ya-as. 

Mam. Now, if there should be war, I know that Col. Lawton will 
ask your advice. 

Cad. {complacently). No doubt. 

Mam. And you will give it, won't you, lieutenant ? 

Cad. Ya-as, of cawse. 

Mam. And go off and get killed for glory .? 

QhTi. {doubtfully). Ye-ya-as ; but — aw {^nervously, without 
draiid), I say, Miss Bangs, you — you don't suppose that there 
will be trouble } 

Mam. Oh, no. {Aside, highly amused.) He's talking United- 
States, by all that's wonderful! {Aloud.) No, there will be no 
trouble, but there may be some red-hot fighting ; so you better 
get your hair cut right off short. 

Cad. Why had'l ? 

Mam. So they can't scalp you. 

Cad. This is dreadful. I {with an effort) aw — I mean dwead- 
ful. Excuse me. Miss Bangs, I have some business to look aftah. 
{Aside.) I'll wun wight down and see when the next twain leaves 
foh home. {Exit L. i e.) 

Mam. If I can only scare a little manhood into him, and a big 
lot of the dude out, he will make a very decent fellow. {Co?nnio- 
tio?i off K. \J . K.) Hello! There's a row, and Johnnie is into it 
up to his neck. 

(A^/z/tv Johnnie, Casey, and Biggs, r. u. e.) 

Cas. Luk here, young feller; ye jist bate the divil onto' sight, 
so ye do. 

Biggs. He is certainly a most remarkably incorrigible specimen 
of purely unadulterated youthful depravity. 

Johnnie. Set 'em up again ! When did you. swallow that dic- 
tionary .? 

Mam. Jonathan Montgomery Bangs ! 

John. Keno ! Go to the head ! 

Mam. You dreadful boy ! What ha7>e 3'ou been doing ? 

Cas. Doin', is it ? Shure, miss, he jist was afther shootin' ther 
Jedge's cow full o' holes — bad cess to him ! 

John. I thought she was a buffalo. 



20 RTO GRANDE. 

Mam. John Montgome — 

John. Oh, skip it ! I don't care. Why didn't he put a label 
on his blamed old milk tank. 

Mam. Send your bill to papa. 

John. Along with the cow, and the compliments of J. Mont- 
gomery Bangs. 

Cas. Faith, I wish he belonged to me fer jist wan minute. I'd 
bang him ! 

John, {^swaggering). Whatter ye soy? If you want blood, call 
on me. I m the baddest kind of a bad man, and I live on nails and 
gunpowder. 

MaiM. You will live on bread and water if you don't behave, for 
I'll have the colonel lock you up. 

John. Not muchly now. I'm the colonel's right bower, I am. 
See 1 There's going to be war, sis, an' I'm all there. I shall 
return from this campaign covered all over with scalps and glory. 
That's my gait. Come along, Mame. There's Miss Sophia look- 
ing for us. Perhaps she sees an Injun. Woh ! {Folloivs Mamie 
ojL. I E.) 

Cas. Say, judge, now what do ye suppose the loikes o' him 
was iver made for onyhow ? 

Biggs. Your problem, corporal, is one that has taxed the 
ingenuity of the greatest writers, thinkers, and psychological 
students — 

Cas. {aside). O Lord ! 

Biggs {contiiming). Since the dawn of American history. His 
mother doubtless imagines that he was created to be President of 
the United States, in which idea she has a monopoly, since most 
people know tliat he was born to be hung. Hem ! Now the 
American small boy — even when he sheds his knickerbockers — 
is sui generis ; he certainly is not pro bono.- publico. Ahem ! 
(Casey quietly exits R. u. e.) In the actual point of fact, the 
earlier writers on anthropology strenuously insist that this dispro- 
portionableness is prima facie evidence that {looks aronnd) that 
— that, oh, damn it! {Goes np c.) It is a strange fact that 
whenever I open the storehouses of my wisdom, Mrs. Biggs goes 
to sleep, and everybody else goes away. 

{Enter Cadwallader, l. u. e.) 

Cad. Oh, deah ! I might have known I'd get into twouble ! 

Biggs. What is the matter ? 

Cad. Why, they say the wed skins have pulled up the twack 
so the twains cawn't wun. and that I cawn't possibly get away. 

Biggs. And, sir, may I ask, why do you want to get away — to 
leave this grand and glorious country, this favored land of milk 
and honey — where tlie golden sunshine mantles the brow of the 
towering Magdalena Mountains, — 

Cad. Oh. blazvst the Magdalena Mountains!- 

Biggs. Sir ! 



RIO GRANDE. 21 

Cad. And blawst the blawsted country ! 

Biggs. Sir! I — damn it, sir; that talk is felonious felony! 
It's double-dyed treason, sir — treason ! 

Cad. Do you suppose 1 want to go fighting those dweadful, 
dirty, ill-smelling Indians, with their wags and tatters ? 

Biggs. Ah I 

Cad. I don't mind a sJiain battle on the pa wade gwound, don't 
you know, because there is always a cwowd of ladies awound, don't 
you know, and a fellah can go home and take a bath when it is 
ovah, and have his valet bwush him up. {Crosses r.) 

Biggs (l.). Yah ! I'm getting sick ! 

{Enter Segura, r. u. e.) 

Seg. Good-morning, lieutenant. Good-morning, judge. Why, 
Santa Maria ! You look as if you had taken something dis- 
agreeable. 

Biggs. So I have : a dose of American — yah — " aristocracy ! " 

Seg. {o/ancmg at Cau.). I understand. It is a regular blue pill ! 

Cad. I say, Mr. Segura, about these blawsted Indians ; do you 
think there is weally any — aw — that is — you see — 

Seg. Danger ? For you ? None whatever. The Indian is a 
peculiar animal ; he never harms people who are no?i compos 
ine7itis. 

Biggs. Then he is safe. 

Cad. Thanks awfully. {Aside.) Now, what the dooce is Jiofi 
compos mentis ? Blawst his Spanish lingo I 

Seg. I should imagine, lieutenant, being a military man, that 
you would delight in a campaign. 

Cad. Ya-as — I suppose it is more exciting than lawn tennis. 
But, then, one is likely to get so fwightfully soiled and dirty — and 
the guns make such a wacket — and you have to dwinkout of nasty 
tin cups, and all that, don't you know. This, of cawse, to one of 
the awistocwacy — 

Seg. Aristocracy ? 

Cad. Ya-as. 

Seg. By the way, what is an American aristocrat ? 

Cad. The dooce ! Why, any ignowamus could answer that. 

Seg. I am all attention. Proceed. 

Cad. It's a fellah of — of the uppah clawss — who has —^ aw 
— plenty of money — belongs to the clubs — has a valet to look 
aft ah hi in and dwess him — who dwinks plain soda — aw — and 
nevah associates with common people; who — who — gets his 
clothes from London, and — aw — 

Seg. Whose grandfather ran a gin mill, sold furs, or raised 
cabbages ! And who. therefore, looks down with sublime contempt 
on all honest labor ; who is too weak to argue, too cowardly to 
resist, and too contemptible to kick ! {Ci'osses l.) 

Cad. Look heah. Now — I — 1 — 

Biggs. 'Sh I Be careful — 



22 RIO GRANDE. 

Cad. But I cawn't stand that, and I won't. I'll — 
Biggs. Dry up ! Unless you want to be an angel ! 
Cad. Eh ? 

Biggs. That man can snuflfa candle at twenty paces, and he is 
the devil himself with a knife. 

Cat>. {f?'ightenea). The dooce ! Say — {T/uy converse aside.) 

{Enter Lawton, r. u. e.) 

Law. Seiior Segura — a word, please. 

Seg. With pleasure. {Goes iip.') 

Cad. I wonder if I should offah to tweat him to a cigawette — 

Biggs. Then he'd kill you anyhow — vivisect you — skin you 
alive. Come along ! {Exit, with Cad. r. i e.) 

Seg. So you think the outbreak will be serious ? 

Law. I fear so. 

Seg. And you intend to crush them out this time ? 

Law. I certainly do — provided they make a stand of it, and — 

Seg. And the "old women" at Washington don't interfere. 

Law. Exactly. 

Seg. Very well. I will order out a force of cavalry on our side 
of the river, to cut off retreat ; and, if you choose, I will instruct 
my men to co-operate with you, — or perhaps will lead them in 
person. 

Law. a thousand thanks, senor. 

Seg. You are quite welcome, colonel. 

{Efiter Casey, r. u. e. Salutes Lawton.) 

Law. What is it ? 

Cas. {sahiting). The scouts are in, sor, an' waitin' to report, 
sor. 

Law. I will see them directly. (Casey salutes and exits, r. u. 
e.) Will you join me, senor ? 

Seg. In a few moments. I must despatch a courier with 
orders. 

Law. Very well. {Aside.) He's a very decent fellow after 
all. {Exit R. u. E.) 

Seg. He is a bigger fool than I thought. Oh, yes — yes. My 
men will co-operate with him ! Precisely. {Lights cigar.) Just 
as tUe Prussians did with Napoleon in Russia. Allies are never 
reliable, and I shall be surprised if my men fail to do some very 
— careless — shooting If this cursed Wybert is killed — well and 
good ; it will save me the trouble. If he escapes — so much the 
worse — for him. 

{Enter Retta, r. u. e.) 

Ret. Uncle ! 

Seg. Well, my dear ? {Seated l.) 

Ret. Are you doing nothing ? 

Seg. I am doing something. 



RIO GRANDE. 2$ 

Ret. {impatiently^. Well, what? 

Seg. {coolly'). Smoking. 

Ret. You have lost heart. You mean to spare them. 

Seg. Indeed '^. You surprise me. 

Ret. Do I 1 And you surprise me — you, whose path no one has 
ever crossed in safety ; whom the natives call " the lightning " be- 
cause of your deadly skill — and before whom the fiercest bandit 
slinks and crawls with fear. 

Seg. {removing hat). My dear Retta — you flatter me ! 

Ret. Yes ? Then does it flatter you to say that I am disgusted 
with your indifference — that I really believe you dare not — 

Seg. Stop where you are. /dare not.'* What do you mean ? 

Ret. You seem so quiet that I — I — 

Seg. {rising). My dear, did you ever observe a storm coming out 
from the West ? Have you watched the gray clouds rising slowly 
to the zenith, while the air grew h.eavy, and Nature's voice was 
hushed in fear ? Have you th.ought that amid that strange and 
awful silence the deadly thunderbolts were being forged? And 
when at last the fierce lightning sprang forth, was it not all the 
more terrible for the long silence 1 Answer me. 

Ret. Yes. 

Seg. Good. I have stored trie lightning. 
. Ret. Well? 

Seg. And it will strike — 

Ret. {eagerly). Yes — 

Seg. When I see fit. {As Retta turns away.) Here — sign 
this paper. {Takes paper from pocket.) 

Ret. What is it ? 

Seg. Your — marriage — certificate ! 

Ret. {hesitating, in doubt). My — marriage — certificate ? 

Seg. You heard me. That paper certifies to your marriage with 
Paul Wybert. 

Ret. But I am not — this paper is a — a — 

Seg. Forgery? It is quite possible. My skill with the pen is 
something remarkable. 

Ret. This is madness ! We shall be exposed. 

Seg. My dear child, I am not quite a fool ! Observe me. The 
priest is dead whose excellent name I have — well — borrowed for 
this occasion. The witnesses are my creatures who would swear 
away their souls' salvation to spite an American. 

Ret. If they sliould not — 

Seg. Then I would cut their throats. 

Ret. But the marriage register ? 

Seg. Will quietly disappear. 

Ret. Your plan is fiendish. 

Seg. As I intended. 

Ret. I'll not do it. 

Seg. What ? Be careful, now ! 

Ret. I cannot — I cannot ! 



24 RIO GRANDE. 

Seg. Very well. Then your lovely rival wins him. She will 
flaunt her victory before your eyes, while people will utter covert 
sneers, and openly point to you as the cast-ofF toy of the Amer- 



ican 



Ret. Uncle ! You torture me. {Crosses u.) 

Seg. Look yonder ! {Pointing i..) There they go. See how 
she smiles on him — and how happy he is. Now they look this 
way. See — they are laughing at you. Isn't it delightful.? Ali, 
Seiiora. How you niiist enjoy it ! 

Ret. Give me the paper — quick — give it me! Where shall 
I sign ? 

Seg. There — under his name. 

Ret. Yes — I can see her wither and shrink before this. I 
can see her proud head droop, and the haughty light fade from her 
eyes. Ah, I coidd cry for joy — I am so happy ! Wait for me. I 
will return in a moment. {Exit R. u. e.) 

Seg. How easy it is to make a fool of her. A passionate 
woman is the most unaccountable creature on earth, for she loves or 
hates without rhyme or reason. Touch her heart and she will blow 
hot or cold — kill or caress — all in a single breath. 

{Enter Retta, quickly, R. u. e.) 

Ret. I have signed tlie paper. 

Seg. 'Sh ! Don't tell all creation. 

Ret. Do you want it.'* 

Seg. Yes. {Takes paper.) Say nothing of this. 

Ret. I am on fire with impatience. 

Seg. No doubt of it. 

Ret. I want to see her fall at my feet, crushed and broken ; to 
see her weep her heart out in bitter agony as I have done. I can- 
not wait for the time. Do hurry ! {Crosses l.) 

Seg. My dear, your true epicure does not bolt his food nor pour 
down his imperial Tokay ; and only a fool kills an enemy quickly, 
if he can place the soul itself upon the rack. 

Ret. Oh, what a splendid hater ! 

Seg. For I study it. Hating is an art which sliould never be 
governed by passion. Yesterday 1 only disliked i\\\s Capt. Wybert, 
and would have killed him with pleasure ; to-day I cordially hate 
him, and would not harm his precious body for the world. 

Ret. What v.-ould you do ? 

Seg. Ruin him — disgrace him — scourge him from the sight of 
honest men; make his life a waking nightmare — an inferno — 
surpassing even Dante's wildest dream. 

Ret. But his " dear Sophia " — what of her ? 

Seg. That is your part in our little drama. You must arouse 
her jealousy — set them to quarrelling — and thus stir up the devil 
all around. When you meet Wybert you must act submissive 
— chastened; thus you disarm suspicion and gain his confidence. 



RIO GRANDE. 2$ 

Then awaken pity by your tears and self-reproaches. Tell him 
you are unworthy — 

Ret. Uncle ! 

Seg. It is a lie, of course; but all is fair in love and war. 
Besides, it will be an amusing turnabout, for man has lied to 
woman since the dawn of history. (^Exit R. i e.) 

Ret. Not worthy of him ? No — and can never be, Paul is 
noble, grand, honorable — while I am a base, sinful girl. Can I 
sink so low that I may chide myself thus .'' No ! I will not ! 
{Goes up c.) I will have no share in such a monstrous crime. I 
will — {looks L.) oh — there they are ! He is bidding her good-by 
— his arm is around her — their lips meet — I — I — O God, my 
heart is breaking! {Sinks into seat, r., sobbing; a patise ; then 
looks up with fierce, sndden joyi) He said I must act submissive, 
chastened. Yes ! And thus divert suspicion ! I can ! I will ! 
He shall applaud me as an actress ! Yes ! {goes iipi) Here comes 
Paul — my audience! Ah, how I hate him — how I hate him! 
{Sits R.) 

{Enter Paul, l. u. e.) 

Paul. The government ought to be — blessed. Thanks to the 
old grannies at Washington we are called upon to feed the cursed 
Indians ail winter and fight them all summer. I rather enjoy a row 
myself, but just at the present moment I feel like {sees Retta) 
the um-m ! 

Ret. Paul — Capt. Wybert — I — wish to speak with you for a 
moment. 

Paul, Yes — I know ; I am very sorry, but I really have no 
time to spare. {Going.) 

Ret. Paul — 

Paul. Well ? 

R*et. Not a moment in all eternity ? 

Paul. What do you mean ? 

Ret. That you will never see me again ; that I shall annoy you 
no more. If I feel no shame when I confess that 1 have loved you 
wnth all my heart and soul, it is because I know how hopeless and 
unvalued that love is. Perhaps you will think me bold, un- 
maidenly — 

Paul. Why, Retta — 

Ret. But forgive me, Paul, and pity me. I should have known 
that you could never, never love one so unworthy as I — I — {sob- 
bing.) 

Paul, Unworthy ? Retta, child, don't debase yourself by such 
words. You make me feel like a hard, insensible brute. It is I 
who am unwortliy of such love as yours — I whose very life should 
be yours to command. If I had known — 

Ret. Stop ! You cannot undo the past. You are bound to 
another, and must not think of me until — until I am gone! 

Paul. But, Retta — 



26 RIO GRANDE. 

Ret. You will not think of nie harshly when I am dead — will 
you, Paul ? You will sometimes let your memory linger kindly 
upon the poor girl, untutored in the ways of the world, who would 
gladly have given up her life for you, and wiiose dying breath was 
an orison for your happiness. 

Paul {jnucJi affected). Don't, Retta. Your words unman me. 
{Sits L.) 

Ret. {aside). I wonder how I am doing? {Goes up slightly 
and looks I..) And she is watching us! Excellent — excellent! 
Now for it ! {Comes down and k?ieels beside Paul.) And you, 
too, are going away. In this world we may never meet again. Do 
you forgive me ? 

Paul. I have nothing to forgive. 

Ret. Then will you promise me something? 

Paul. What is it ? 

Ret. Promise that you will tell no living soul what passed in 
this interview. 

Paul. 1 promise. 

Ret. And will you grant me one more favor —only one ? 

Paul. Gladly. 

Ret. Then put your arms around me, and kiss me, Paul, for 
the first and last time. {He does so.) Thank you. [They rise.) I 
am faint and weary. Please take me in. {They go r., and Retta 
draws his ar?n aronnd her.) 

{Enter Segura and Sophia, l. u. e. He restrains her.) 

Ret. I can trust you, then ? 

Paul {puzzled). Trust me ? Why, yes — certainly you can. 

Ret. Ah, Paul, now I can bid you good-by with resignation, for 
you have taken such a load from my heart. {They exit, R. i E.) 

Soph. You saw that ? 

Seg. With lasting regret. 

Soph. Oh, indeed ! 

Seg. Believe me — truly. Capt. Wybert was my guest some 
months ago, and pretended to conceive a great passion for my 
niece — whose guardian 1 am. Although I strongly opposed his 
suit, yet 1 considered him a man of honor. Certainly I never 
dreamed that he was engaged to you. This, 1 trust, will excuse 
my apparent ill-temper of last evening. 

Soph. Yes. I — I appreciate your motive. But your niece 
should be told — 

Seg. She has been. 

Soph. And yet — 

Seg. She hinted at something more than a mere engagement. 

Soph. Something more ? Can it be possible that — 

Seg. My niece is an honest girl. Miss Lawton, however head- 
strong and wilful. 

Soph. Then it is I whom that profligate would have duped! 
Oh, the shame, the humiliation, of this moment ! 



RIO GRANDE. 2/ 

Seg. Poor child ! I pity you. 

Soph. Senor Segura, yesterday you professed regard for me. 
Seg. Yes — 

Soph. To-day, if you can take me as I am, with a heart of 
ashes, shamed, degraded, in my own eyes — then — I am yours. 
Seg. {embracing her). Mine, at last ! 

{Enter Paul, qjcickly, R. u. E.) 

Paul. Sophia ! 

Seg. Well, sir, what is it ? 

Paul {hotly). Unhand that lady ! 

Seg. {sneerimy). How very melodramatic ! 

Paul. By Heaven, I'll — 

'^KG. {facing him with folded arms). Will you ? 

Soph. Seiior — please — leave me for a moment. 

Seg. Your servant. {Kisses her hand., and exits, L. u. E.) 

Soph. Well, sir } 

Paul. Tell me what this means. 

Soph. Do you wish to know '^ Then look into your own false 
heart for the answer. 

Paul. Are you mad ? 

Soph. Yes ; mad with rage at your duplicity. 

Paul. Afy duplicity ? Well — Til be hanged ! 

Soph. No doubt of it. 

Paul. My duplicity! Mine? And perhaps yo7C will ex- 
plain — 

Soph. Yes, when j^?^ explain the meaning of the scene which 
I have witnessed. 

Paul. Oh, that! Why, you see — {Aside.) Devil take the 
luck ! I promised to say nothing. You — er — you see — 

Soph. Precisely ; I did see, — to your shame be it said. 

Paul. But, my dear — 

Soph. That will do. Don't add another falsehood to your 
infamy. 

Paul. Sophia! You will regret this. 

Soph. No. I can only regret the day when first I met you. 
{Crosses R. Paul^^^j np c. " Bngles sound off L. u. e.) 

Paul. What you saw bears no disgrace to me. / cannot, in 
honor, explain ; but, will /^;^ not.'' {A pause.) Very well then. 
Tlie assembly is called. My command is waiting. I shall soon 
,^>) out to battle, and if I never return — O Sophia, tell me — shall 
we part like this ? I will forget what I witnessed ; I will believe 
nothing ill of you. Can you not return faith for faith ? 

Soph. Tell me what you were saying. 

Paul. I can tell you nothing. 

Soph. Then go ! {Sits w.) ' 

Paul So be it. {Martial 7/iusic sounds faintly, L. u. k.) I 
had thought of this campaign with pride, if not with joy ; for it 
promised me new honors and higher rank, which should all be 



28 RIO GRANDE. 

yours. Now, I think of nothing but the death I court; for I 
know that if my Hfe goes out it will cause you neither pain nor 
sorrow. Farewell, then, Sophia. Farewell. God bless you. 
{^Exit quickly^ l. u. e. Mtisic dies away. Brief pause.) 

Soph, {startled). Paul! {Rising.) Paul! {U^p L.) Gone! 
Gone ! Oh, my heart ! {Sobs.) 

{Enter Lawton, r. u. e.) 

Law. {briskly). Well, my dear, we're off. 

Soph, {embracing him). Father I 

Law. There, there. It may be nothing but a skirmish, and 
perhaps they won't even show fight. 

Soph. Then why go at all .^ 

Law. Come, come, my dear! Remember, you are a soldier's* 
daughter. Remember, too, that if anything happens to me, there 
is a Father above {cap off — solemnly) whose loving eye will 
watch over you by day and by night; whose loving hand will 
guide and protect you forever. {Mnsic as before.) There, the 
boys are waiting for me. Good-by, my dear child. {Kisses her.) 
Good-by. {Exit, l. u. e.) 

Soph, {brokenly). Good-by. {Follows to L. u. e. Stands 
looking off". Music fainter.) 

{Enter Mr. and Mrs. Biggs, r. u. e.) 

Biggs. Mrs. Biggs, your remarks, as usual, are highly edify- 
ing ; nevertheless, however, I am under the necessity of saying 
an revoir. 

Mrs. B. Have you got that dreadful what-do-you-call-it again ? 

Biggs. No, my dear; '' aji revoir'' \s not the toothache. It 
means, in simple English, farewell for the present particular time 
being until another day's bright sunshine gilds the knell of parting 
day, and all that sort of thing ; you understand ? 

Mrs. B. Yes ; but what ai'e you talking about ? 

Biggs. Well, Mrs. Biggs, the regiment is going off hunting 
Indians — 

Mrs. B. And you are gug-gug-going, too, Jeremiah ? 

Biggs. Such is my present, duly considered, unchangeable 
resolution. 

Mrs. B. Don't go and leave me a widow, Jeremiah. {Embra- 
cing him.) Say you won't, you darling old Jerry. {He shakes his 
head.) You precious old fool ! 

Biggs. Eh ! What ! Damme ! I'll fine you for contempt of 
court ! 

Mrs. B. Fine your great-grandmother's fourth cousin ! 

Biggs. 'Sh-sh ! Keep mum ! I'm going out with Lieut. Cad- 
walladcr. He has paid me to conduct liim to a safe point of ob- 
servation. We won't fjet within ten miles of an Indian. Do you 
observe that no flies cling to my person 1 {They join Sophia.) 



RIO GRANDE. 29 

{Enter Johnnie, dragging in Cadwallader, r. u. e.) 

John. Come on, Cad. We'll do 'em ! We'll do 'em ! 
Hooray! We'll do 'em! Whoop! I'm the whirling blizzard 
of the wild and woolly — blood in me e'ye, whatter ye soy — say, 
got yer gun ? 

Cad. Ya-as. {Takes tiny pistol frotn vest pocket?) 

John. O mamma ! Look at the rifled cannon ! Look at it ! 
Say, if you shoot a man with that thing you want to break for 
cover. 

Cad. Aw — why ? 

John. 'Cause if he found it out he'd whale the stuffing out of 
you! Sizz — boom — ah-h ! (Exit, l. i e.) 

Biggs (down c). Come, lieutenant. 

Cad. (hesitatifig). You're quite, ^7///*?, quite sure that we — 
aw — wun no wisk 1 

Biggs. No risk whatever. 

Cad. (lights cigarette). Aw, thanks. 

Biggs. ' Those cussed cigarettes would protect you anyhow. 
{S7iiffingi) Indians can't stand everything. (Exit with Cad- 
wallader, l. I E.) 

{Enter Mamie, r. u. b.., followed by Segura rt;/^ Retta.) 

Mam. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear ! They're both going away 
to get killed ! 

Mrs. B. (down c). So is Jeremiah ! 

Mam. And they'll get shot all full of great big ho-ho-holes I 

Mrs. B. And the Indians will cut off their h-h-heads ! 

Mam. And I'll bet they'll get killed ! 

Mrs. B. I'm shoo-shoo-shoo-sure of it ! 

Mam. But I won't cry. 

Mrs. B. Me neither. 

Both. Boo-hoo-hoo ! (Einbracingi) 

Mrs. B. Don't c-c-cry, dear, . 

Mam. I ain't going to ! 

Mrs. B. Me neither ! 

Both {as before). Boo-hoo-hoo! (They embrace and go 
tip c.) 

Soph. (l.). Mamie. 

Mam. (l.). Yes, dear. 

Seg. (down R. to Retta). What do you think of my scheme ? 

Ret. It is magnificent — and yet — 

'^'E.G. (impatiently). And yet .? And what? (Music louder.) 

Ret. Nothing. (Music — brisk maj-ch.) 

Mrs. B. (at back). Look ! There they go ! 

Mam. (clapping hands). There's the colonel! Hooray! 
( Waves handkerchief.) 

Ret. And there is Paul I 



30 RIO GRANDE. 

Soph. (l. c). Paul ! Paul ! Come — come back ! Ah ! 
{Drops fainting, L. c.) 

Seg. {to Retta). See ! Your revenge has begun ! (Music 
swells.) 

Curtain. 

ACT III. 

Scene. — Same as first act, except that curtains are draw7i and 
a lighted lamp is on table. Lights partly doivn. Landscape as 
seen through windows at first shows moonlight effects which * 
grow fainter and gradually change to siinliglit. This act begins 
before dawn of the third day. Discover Retta at window., L. 
Mrs. Biggs is in arm-chair up k., while Mamie sits at her 
feet pillowing her head in her lap. Both are asleep. Soft and 
plaintive music at rise of curtain. 

Ret. {dropping curtain and turning away). Oh, the long and 
weary night ! Will it never end 1 And when the gray dawn 
comes, what news will it bring — victory or defeat, life or death .? 
They are asleep. {Looks off L. u. e.) And she, too, is sleeping 
at last, worn out with weary watching. {Down l.) But I cannot 
rest, nor sleep. {Sits l., front.) I so longed, so prayed for 
revenge ; but now that I have gained it through the dreadful 
wrong I did her and him, how poor and weak it is, and how 
wretched it has made me ! They say that revenge is sweet. It is 
a lie, for revenge is bitter as wormwood. {/Rising.) I can not, I 
will not endure it. I will awaken her and tell her everything. 
{Goes up L.) But no. {Pausing) He may have fallen, and then 
her pity for me will turn to loathing. O Mother in heaven, what 
shall I do, what shall I do ? {Sinks into chair near %vindow, over- 
come with emotion^ 

• Mam. {waking). Ah-h ! {VawJis.) Oh, dear ! Ouch! I've 
broken my neck. Mrs. Bi — {yawns) iggs ! Mrs. Biggs, wake up ! 

Mrs. B. Heh ? A-oh, I wasn't asleep. ( Yawns!) 

Mam. Neither was {ya^vns) I — much. 

Mrs. B. It must be near morning. 

Mam. {looking at watch). Yes, it's four o'clock. 

Mrs. B. Poor Mr. Biggs ! I know he's killed. 

Mam. Yes, and poor Lieut. Cadwallader, I know he's scared to 
death. 

Mrs. B. I shall be a poor, lone widow. {Crying^ 

Mam. I won't even have that consolation, and I look just divine 
in black. 

Mrs. B. Think of poor Mr. Biggs sleeping there on the cold 
ground without his nightcap. 

Mam. And think of the poor lieutenant, out there fighting 
Indians and getting killed, without a chance to comb his hair or 
even put on a clean collar. 



RIO GRANDE. 3 I 

Mrs. B. It must be growing light. Come out on the veranda 
and see if any one is stirring. Those pt^sky Indians ! I wish they 
were all dead. 

Mam. They might be, if we had only sent them enough rum 
and missionaries. (^E.tit with Mrs. B., c. d.) 

Retta {rising and looking t/irough window). The dawn is 
breaking. A faint, rosy glow lights up the distant mountains, but 
the earth looks dark and ghostly under the waning moonbeams. 
{Drops air tain.) And my soul is dark — dark as the heavy mid- 
night. Look where I may, I can see no ray of light, no gleam of 
hope. {Down c.) Where shall I go ? what can I do ? A few 
hours ago I was as happy as the merry bird that sings beside my 
window ; and now I am miserable as a spirit of darkness, shut 
out forever from light and joy and peace. {Seated., r.) Ah 
{sliivers), what is the matter ? What is it .'' I am. cold — cold — 
as if an icy blast of winter was sweeping through the room. Oh ! 
{Rising.^ My heart feels like lead. I am numb, choking — ah ! 
{Faints., dropping into chair, r.) 

{Enter Sophia, l. u. e.) 

Soph, {riinning to Retta), Retta {kneeling beside her) ! 
Retta! Retta! Oh! is she dead? Retta! What shall I do.? 
{Raises her head.) Speak to me, dear ! can't you ? 

Ret. {dazed). What is the matter.? 

Soph. You were over-excited, nervous, frightened — as we all 
are at this time. 

Ret. And I fainted ? 

Soph. Yes, dear. 

Ret. How thoughtless of me I 

Soph. Thoughtless ? 

Ret. Yes — and selfish ; for I disturbed your rest. 

Soph. Poor dear ! what a good, kind heart you have ! 

Ret. I .? Oh, don't — 

Soph. And I have really been cruel enough to think ill of you. 
Forgive me, dear. 

Ret. Forgive you ? Nay, it is I who should ask forgiveness. 
It is I who should kneel at your feet and humbly beg for mercy. 

Soph. Retta! 

Ret. Scorn me, hate me if you will, pity me if you can ; but 
don't be kind to me. No, no, no; it makes me hate myself. 

Soph. Poor child! You have nothing to regret. You could 
not know that he was playing me false ; and even if you had known 
of it, the blame was not your own. 

Ret. {aside). She finds ready words to excuse me. But what 
would she say if — dare I, dare I tell her? If you knew — 

Soph. I do know that you have been sadly, shamefully wronged. 
(Retta weeps.) But don't feel so badly. There will yet be sun- 
shine and joy for you. He cannot be entirely heartless. And when 
they return — 



32 RIO GRANDE. 

Ret. Perhaps they never will return. 

Soph. Oh, yes ; they will. My father is an experienced officer, 
and he said it might be only a brief skirmish. Besides, your — 
your — 

Ret. Uncle ? Don't speak of him? I am almost wicked 
enough to hope that I may never see hi))i again. 

Soph, {aside). I don't think that would be anything very 
wicked. 

{Enter Mrs. Biggs rt://^' Mamie, c. d.) 

Mrs. B. Oh-h ! Some one is coming. 
Soph. Who is it 1 

Mrs. B. I don't know; a man, or — a — something. 
Mam. I'm just dead sure it's something. (Retta and Sophia 
go np L.) 

Mrs. B. D-d-don't be frightened. 

My\M. I'm n-n-not — are y-y-you .'' 

Mrs. B. Not a bit. I — o-o-ch ! {Rims R.) 

Mam. Oh-h ! {Runs l.) 

{Eiiter Cadwallader, c. d., witltont hat, clothing to7-?i, eye 
blackened, face scratched, and generally used up.) 

Mam. There ! It's the lieutenant. I knew they'd kill him. 

Cad. {dropping into chair). Ya-as — we're all killed. 

Mam. Are you dead '^. 

Mrs. B. Are you hurt? 

Ret. Where is Paul ? 

Soph. Where is father ? 

Mam. Where is Johnnie ? 

Mrs. B. Where is Jeremiah .? 

All. Where are they ? 

Cad, Ya-as — I suppose so. 

Mam. How many did you kill ? 

Cad. How many what .^ 

All. Indians! 

Cad. Blawst the Indians ! I haven't seen any. {General 
disgust.) 

Ret. Then what is the matter with you ? 

Cad, Mattah } Dooce it all, I'm a week — a total week. 

Mam. You look it. 

Cad. Ya-as ; I look weal dweadful, don't I } 

Mrs. B. You wretch ! What have you done with my Jeremiah "? 

Cad. And what has youah Jewemiah done with me ? Led me 
astway, wuined me complexion, spoiled me clothes ! D-d-damn 
youah Jewemiah ! {Exit Mrs. Biggs, indignantly, c. d.) 

Mam. Tell us all about it, that's a dear. (Sophia and Retta 
go up l. and exit, L. u, e.) 

Cad. I cawn't wemembah much, don't you know. 

Mam. {impatiently). Well, well ! 



RIO GRANDE. 33 

Cad. Ya-as. We followed the men foh a time, at a distance — 

Mam. Of course ; go on ! 

Cad. We did. It was awfully hot, and the men got way ahead 
of us, and by and by we heard some shooting, and a gwate, big 
wabbit spwang up in the path and fwightened the ponies, and his 
wan that way and mine wan this way — 

Mam. Toward the fort ? 

Cad. Ya-as. Then I lost command of the bwute, and I also 
lost me hat and me eyeglasses and me walking-stick, and — and 
me cigawettes ! Wasn't it shocking ? 

Mam. Paralyzing. And then — keep it up — and tlien ? 

Cad. The next thing I knew me feet got out of the stirrups, and 
I had to hang on awound the pony's neck. Then suddenly he 
stopped. 

Mam. Well— goon. 

Cad. {dolefully). I did. 

Mam. You did .^ 

Cad. Ya-as. Look at me. {Rising and turning around.) 

Mam. Then what } 

Cad. Nothing, foh I landed on me head. 

Mam. That was lucky. • 

Cad. I beg to difTah. It disturbed me bwains, which is some- 
thing I ne7>ah do meself ; besides that, I had to walk back, and I 
lost me way, and I know I shall be a week all me life. 

Mam. Oh, no, you won't. With a few more such adventures, 
you will develop into a thoroughbred cow — er — 

Cad. Aw — 

Mam. — boy ; cowboy. 

Cab. {half rising). Oh! 

Mam. What's the matter? 

Cad. {seated). A — a cwick in the back. 

Mam. Here —take a bracer. {Pours liquor from flask.) 

Cad. What is it .? 

Mam. Hardware — dynamite — earthquake — whiskey. 

Cad. Is it stwong ? 

lAlAM. You tell. 

Cad. It's got a bad look {smells), and it smells awfully dead. 

Mam. Never mind ; shut your eyes and let her go. Now — all 
ready — one — two — 

Cad. Say, if anything happens, send me home on ice. {Drinks.) 
Ah, I don't wondah they kill people out in this country. {Attempts 
to rise.) Oh, my ! Blawst it ! 

Mam. Let me help you. 

Cad. Thanks awfully. {She helps him to his feet.) 

Mam. Steady now. Brace up. Lean on me. 

Cad. Thanks aw — oh ! awfully. If you'd only let me lean on 
you through life. 

^A^i. {aside). Oh, my lord ! Whew! 

Cad. I mean it — 'pon honah^ I do. 



34 



RIO GRANDE. 



Mam. Stuff! You don't care a row of pins for me. 

Cad, Aw — but I do. I love you evah and evah and evah so 
much. If you'll only agwee, Til do anything you say. 

Mam. Ah ! Will you talk United States ? 

Cad. Ya-as. 

Mam. Then say "j^i-." 

Cad. Yes. 

Mam. Will you dress like an American ? 

Cad. Ya — yes. 

Mam. Will you throw away your fool walking-stick, single- 
barrel eyeglass, and cigarettes .'* 

Cad.' Aw — well — I — 

Mam. Well, what 1 

Cad. Well, ya — yes. 

Mam. And you'll try to think now and then ? 

Cad. It's no use. I see you won't have me. I cawnH think. 
I wasn't built that way. 

Mam. No matter. I'll think for you. 

Cad. Thanks ! Thanks awfully. Then you'll have me .'' 

Mam. Ya-as ! 

Cad.* Eureka ! I don't know who he was, but {embracing her) 
it's something awfully jolly. 

{Efiter Biggs, c. d. Like Cadwallader, he is much the worse 
for wear?) 

Biggs. So — you've got back, have you ? 

Cad. No, I haven't ; have you ? 

Biggs. Don't you be impudent, sir ! 

Mam. (/^ Cad.). Go it! I'll back you ! 

Cad. Thanks — aw — give me some more of that earthquake. 
{Drinks.) 

Biggs. What did you run off and leave me for, you cowardly 
snob .'* 

Cad. You — ah — {Drinks.) 

Mam. {nudging him). That's right. Sail in ! 

Cad. And what did yon wun — run — off and leave me for, you 
antiquated old — old — devil ? 

Ma " ■ - 

Go it 

Biggs. Antiquated, sir ! Antiquated! I'll — I'll — burr! 

Cad. So'll I burr-r-r ! {Excited business. Cadwallader 
drinks.) 

{Enter Mrs. Biggs, c. d.) 

Mrs. B. {embracing Biggs). O Mr. Biggs! O Jeremiah! 
And you are really, really, truly, really not dead ? 

Biggs. No ; but there will be a really, truly dead dude here 
(Cad. drinks) in just about an infinitesimal fraction of time, if you 
will only get out of the way ! 



RIO GRANDE. 35 

Mrs. B. {clinging to iiiin'). No, no, Jeremiiih. 

Cad. That's wight. Cling to Jewemiah, unless you want me to 
spaltah him all ovah this woom. 

Biggs, {struggling^. Let me get at him for a moment — a 
single moment ! 

Cad. {to Mamie). D-d-do you suppose she will 'i 

Mam. Never. You're safe. Roast him ! 

Cad. Why don't you come on — you old Egyptian obelisk ? 
(.Drinks.) You ossified mummy ! Come on — ic — you cowardly 
old conundrum ! 

Biggs. Mrs. Biggs, I command you ! 

Mrs. B. {standing aside). Well, then, if you're bound to 
fight - 

Mam. All ready for the first round ! (/'//^//^'j- Cadwallader 
toward Biggs, who reti'eats.) 

Biggs. I — ahem! On due consideration, and mature reflec- 
tion, the immediate presence of the gentler sex induces me to allow 
you to remain in statu quoiox the present time being. But beware, 
sir! beware of the aftermath. You have aroused the sleeping lion, 
and his roar will reverberate to the uttermost heights of the tower- 
ing Magdalena Mountains. 

Cad. {half aside). Ya-as. You can hear a jackass a long way 
— ic — way. 

Biggs. I scorn to bandy words with you, sir. Come, Mrs. 
Biggs. Let us hence to our own domicile. In due time, sir, 
you may expect to find your disjecta membra scattered all over 
New Mexico, and to be fined fifty thousand dollars for contempt 
of court. {At c. d.) In the language of the poet — (Mrs. Biggs 
pulls his arm) damn it, let me alone ! {Exit with Mrs. Biggs 
c. d.) 

Cad. {slightly tipsy). Well? How'm I doing? Firs' — ic — 
rate ? 

Mam. You're a holy terror ! 

Cad. Bet — yer — life. Dander's up. No more dud f me ; ic — 
bad man ! 

Mam. Correct. Now go to your room and sober up. 

Cad. All ri', all ri'. Didn' I do Mm ? Bad — ic — bad man ! 
Blood 'n m' eye ! Wah ! Oop ! {Exit, R. u. e.) 

Mam. It's a modern miracle. A dude turned into a man. I 
believe that he will be really plucky when he gets his blood up. 

{Enter Johnnie, quickly, c. d.) 

John. Blood! Who wants blood? Trot him out ! Fm right 
in the business, I am. Yah! Fm the wild-eyed avenger! the 
unterrified scourge of the plains ! You hear me scream ? 

Mam. Jonathan Bangs ! 

John. Correct. That's me — right side up with care, and 
hungry as a tramp. Oh, I tell you that was a gorgeous battle. 
Ping ! Bang ! Puff! And over they went ! 



36 RIO GRANDE. 

Mam. Put up that horrid gun. It might go off. 

John. It has, no end of times, and it did fearful execution. 

{^Enter Segura, c. d.) 

Mam. Yes — shot some more cows perhaps. 

Seg. Only a mule or two. Miss Bangs. The colonel stopped 
him before he did any serious damage. 

Mam. {laughing). O Johnnie ! 

John. Well, I shot at one Injun anyhow. 

Seg. So I observed. But, as he was a mile away, he was not 
badly injured. 

Mam. Then there was no battle ? 

Seg. Only a trifling skirmish. 

John. That was all. We did 'em just too easy — we did! 
{Exit, K. u. e.) 

Mam. No battle ! The idea ! So we had our long fright all 
for nothing. Where are the soldiers ? 

Seg. They will soon be here. 

Mam. I'll tell Sophia; but I think it's a real awful shame 
that you didn't get killed — at least a little bit — so now ! {Exit, 
L. u. E.) 

Seg. The devil you do! She is a pleasant creature — if 
anything a little too pleasant. Um ! I expect a breeze when 
Wybert returns. Curse the young cub I I hope he won't oblige 
me to kill him — at least at present. 

{Enter Sophia and Retta, l. u. e.) 

Ret. {down c). Uncle ! 

Seg. Good-morning, my dear. I hope you have slept well. 

Ret. Do you, indeed? 

Seg. And why not ? You surely had nothing to fear for me, 
and {meaningly) "you certainly cared nothing for the fate of any 
one else. 

Ret. But I — 

Seg. Yes, I see ; you have been assuming pity for her ; that 
is right. You are doing nobly. (Retta goes R. Sophia comes 
down.) Miss Sophia — your devoted. 

Soph. My father — 

Sf.G. Will soon be here. ^ 

Ret. And is — is — 

Seg. Is he wounded ? Not in the least. 

Ret. And is — 

Seg. Is there any limit to your questions ? I dare say not. 
{Aside to Retta.) Hold your tongue. He is safe enough, curse 
him ! I will not have you awaken her interest by any of your 
stupid questions. (Sophia draws cnrtains, ad})iitting early snn- 
ligJit J puts 07 tt lamp ; lights all up.) 

Ret. But she must be anxious. 

Seg. She better not. 



RIO GRANDE. 



5/ 



Ret. And why ? 

Seg. Because she is my promised wife — 

Ret. Y^oier promised wife ? 

Seg. And shall harbor no thoughts of him. 

Ret. Your — promised — wife! 

Seg. Yes, and yes again ; and still yes and yes. My plan is 
working grandly. When Wybert arrives, you must welcome him 
with the utmost affection. Be as loving as you please. He will 
not repulse you, and she will not interfere. 

Ret. What have you done with that forged paper 1 

Seg. Forged paper ? 

Ret. Yes ; the — the one I signed. 

Seg. Ah ! you mean your marriage certificate. 

Ret. Yes — that shameful — 

Seg. Of course ; he is a shameful fellow. But I shall expose 
him. 

Ret. Expose kifn ? Uncle, let us have an understanding. 
You are — 

Seg. Exactly. I am — managing this affair {graspijiq her 
arm), and be careful that you make no mistake in your work ; for 
if you do {yneaningly) , it will be a very expensive mistake lor you, 
my dear. 

Ret. {aside). Demon that he is ! What new villany is he 
planning? {Goes up r. arid exits, R. u. e.) 

Seg. (l.). Daylight at last ! Ah, my dear Sophia, how pleas- 
ant the sunshine is after a long and dreary night. And yet, to me, 
the past night has been a joyous, happy dream. 

Soph. To me it has been a terrible realit}-. 

Seg. The anxiety you felt — regarding your father — was natu- 
ral, of course. 

Soph. If that were all — 

Seg. Then I, too, have had a place in your thoughts? I thank 
you truly, for you have lifted an oppressive doubt from my mind. 

Soph. A doubt ? 

Seg. Yes ; for I had thought — you will pardon me, I am sure 
— that you had, possibly, accepted me in a moment of pique ; and 
that — pardon me again — you might be weak enough to hold a 
lingering regard for the — ah — person — who had so brutally trifled 
with your affections. 

Soph. Sefior ! 

Seg. I see that I was wrong. Forgive me. I should have 
known that such a thought was unjust to a girl like you. My poor 
niece would grovel at his feet ; but you — ah, your splendid 
American spirit will not submit to insult. You cannot forget that 
he has made your heart his plaything ; that the honeyed words 
whispered in your ear were but the echo of words spoken to others ; 
that his self-conceit rejoiced at the thought of adding you to the 
number of his abject worshippers ; and that — 

Soph. No more— no more ; I cannot bear it. 



38 RIO GRANDE. 

Seg. Then you do not regret your promise to me ? 

Soph. I regret nothing, except that I ever saw him. {Music : 
lively niarch^ off h. u. E. Low at firsts then louder. Sophia 
crosses l.) 

Seg. {aside). Jealousy raises the devil, especially with women. 
{Aloud.) The regiment has returned. And now, my dear Sophia, 
may I tell your father of my happiness, and ask his consent to out- 
marriage ? 

Soph, {quickly). No — please — not yet. Give me a little timt 

Seg. But think how anxious I am ; and besides, he ouglit to 
know. 

Soph. Yes — he shall — but give me a little time, for I — I — 

{Enter Retta, c. B.fro?n r.) 

Ret. O Sophia! Here comes your father! (Sophia starts 
up.) And Paul too ! 

Soph. Oh! {Cojues down and sits i..) 

Seg. {aside). There ! one of them waiting to fly to him, and the 
other waiting to fly at him. O woman, woman, woman ! What 
a precious fool you are ! {Exit, R. u. e.) 

{Enter Lawton and Paul, c. d.) 

Law. Sophia, my child ! 

^C)V}\. {embracing hi)n). Father! 

Law. Bless my soul ! What is the matter? 

Soph. Nothing, only — I — I am so glad you have returned. 

Law. Yes, safe and sound. But there ! Paul is waiting. 
{Goes L.) 

Soph, {glancing at Retta). And so is some one else. 

Paul. Indeed ? {Looks at Retta, who is timidly regarding 
him. Then, indignant at Sophia, comes down and takes Retta's 
hand.) You, at least, will welcome me back. You are glad to see 
me, are you not ? 

Ret. Yes, I am glad to see you. {They go R.) 

Law. {looking around). Heiio ! Well, of all things ! What 
does that mean 1 

Soph. Let him answer. {Crosses \.) 

Law. (c). Why — I — look here — the Devil ! {Aside.) No, 
sir! The poet is all VvTong. (/// c. d.) The " proper study of 
mankind" is — woman. And the more you learn of her, the less 
you really know. {Exit, c. d.) 

Paul. So, you see, the outbreak really amounted to nothing. 
But there, I must leave you now. 

Ret. Wait ; I have not told you. 

Paul. Never mind, Retta. ' You are a good, warm-hearted 
girl, for {signijicantly) you did not become an icicle on my return. 

Soph, {aside). That is for my benefit. 



RIO GRANDE. 39 

Paul. There is no frost in your nature. You could never 
freeze a man's heart as some of your northern sisters dehght in 
doing. 

Soph, {indignantly^. No ; but she can burn her poor heart 
out for a wretch who is unworthy of her slightest thought. 

Paul. And that same fire may warm a frozen heart into life, 
and thus disappoint somebody- 

Soph. And if somebody's sword was as sharp as his tongue, 
what a soldier he would make ! 

Paul (^at C. d.). An excellent suggestion. That sword will 
receive immediate attention. {Exit, c. d.) 

Soph, {aside). I could fairly cry my eyes out if she were not 
here. 

Ret. Sophia — 

Soph. Yes, dear. 

Ret. I am going away. 

Soph. Why should you ? 

Ret. You will not wonder when I tell you. Since I came here 
I have brought only sorrow to you, to him, to myself. But before 
I go I must tell you of the dreadful wrong I have done you both. 

Soph. Retta! 

Ret. Don't touch me ; don't come near me. Only listen. 
Yesterday my heart was filled with bitterness toward you, I was 
consumed with jealous rage, mad with envious spite. I hated him : 
I hated you both. In my eagerness for vengeance I thus endeav- 
ored to separate you by every art known to a desperate, wicked 
w^oman. That scene which you witnessed between us was innocent 
of all wrong on his part. Trapped into a promise he gave the 
kiss you saw — as I well knew — and could explain nothing without 
breaking his word. You have all been so good, so kind, to me, 
and I — oh, what a miserable wretch I am ! {Sinks into c/iair R., 
sobbi?ig.) 

Soph. {kneeii?ig beside her). Poor, wayward child ! What has 
my suffering been compared to yours } 

Ret. But mine are all deserved. O Sophia! can you ever 
forgive me ? 

Soph, {kissing her). With all my heart. 

Ret. And Paul — Capt. Wybert'; tell him all that I have said. 
Be happy — happy — and forget me. 

Soph. Forget you ? 

Ret. {returning and embracing her). No, 1 don't mean that. 
Forget the wrong I did, and remember me with all the pity, sor- 
row, and kindness possible. Good-by. Good-by. {Exit. R. u. e.) 

Soph, {tip c). Poor Retta! poor child. If there were only 
two Pauls how nice it would be ! {Looks off C. d.) There he 
goes! Now 1 will surprise him. {Exit, c. d. to l.) 

{Enter Segura and Lawton, r. u. e.) 
Law. Well, senor, I believe that the trouble is all over, at least 
for the present. 



40 . RIO GRANDE. 

Skg. With the Indians — yes; but there seems to be a small 
domestic warfare raging here in the garrison. 

Law. Yes. Women beat the Devil. 

Seg. And there is where men hav€ the best of it; for they 
sometimes beat women. 

Law. I don't see what can possess my daughter. 

Seg. I know of some one who hopes to. 

Law. Yes ? 

Seg. Yes. And your consent, ,1 trust, will not be withheld. 

Law. My consent is evidently of small consequence. Parents 
are ciphers nowadays. I control my regiment easily, but my 
daughter — 

Seg. Easily controls you. 

Law. Well, 1 don't deny it. She is all I have on earth, and, 
bless her heart, never abuses her power. 

Seg. Then she will make an admirable wife. 

Law. No doubt ; for she and Paul are doing all their quarrel- 
ling before marriage. 

Seg. Their marriage ! Whose marriage ? 

Law. Sophia and Capt. Wybert's. I supposed you knew. 

Seg. I know that she will not marry Capt. Wybert. 

Law. Really.'' 

Seg. Really. 

Law. You surprise me. 

Seg. Doubtless 4 but I have my reasons. 

Law. Suppose you name them. 

Seg. With pleasure. First, then, your daughter is engaged to 
me. 

Law. What .' 

Seg. And why not ? I am well born, rich, fairly intelligent, 
not exactly hideous — unless my mirror lies — and, I am pleased to 
say, my heart, hand, and fortune have been accepted by your 
daughter. 

Law. My dear fellow, you certainly are dreaming. My 
daughter — 

Seg. Is a high-spirited girl, quick to resent an insult. 

Law. Insult ? What do you mean ? 

Seg. What I say. My proposal was opportune. When she 
found that she had been duped, played upon, trifled with, by the 
man who professed to love her, she bravely cast his contemptible 
image from her heart, and accepted the love of an honest man. 
That man is myself! 

Law. Duped ? My daughter 1 Wh}^ man, you must be crazy. 
Such talk is absolute nonsense. My daughter, I tell you, is 
engaged to Capt. Wybert. 

Seg. She was, I admit, until she discovered his real charac- 
ter. 

Law. I will hear no more. Capt. Wybert is a gentleman, and 
will marry my daughter. 



RIO GRANDE. 4I 

Seg. Capt. Wybert is a double-dyed scoundrel, and will tiot 
marry your daughter ! 

Law. Look here, sir, I have a mind to — 

Seg. You want my reason ? 

Law. {I'cst raining hhuself^. Yes; be brief. 

Seg. Briefly, then, Capt. Wybert will not marry her because he 
has a wife already ! 

Law. {passionately). Sefior Segura ! That is a lie ! {Ci'osses l.) 

Seg. {half draw i Jig sword). Eh! {With an effort.) You — 
want — proof .'^ 

Law. Yes — and be quick about it. 

Seg. Very well. Capt. Wybert was married in Mexico. His 
wedding was kept a profound secret. I heard of it yesterday for 
the first time. 

Law. And his wife — 

Seg. Is my poor, wronged, unhappy niece. 

Law. Retta t 

Seg. Yes, Retta. If you want more proof, here is her marriage 
certificate. Look at it ; study it ; and then tell me if I lie. 

Law. {examining certificate). Paul Wybert, Capt. U. S. Cav- 
aly, — Retta — You told the truth, sefior. I beg your pardon. 

Paul {outside, l.). Come dear, it's all right now. 

Law. The infamous scoundrel ! I'll blow his brains out! 

Seg. Don't ; he would never miss them. 

Law. But damn the fellow — 

Seg. That is right. Damn him all you please ; only, make 
an example of him. I will tell you my plan. {Draws Lawton 
towards R. u. e.) It will take but a moment. {Exit Lawton, 
R. u. E.) Now, you fools, make the most of your time I {Exit, 
R. u. E.) 

{Enter Paul and Sophia, c. d.) 

Soph, {shaking finger playfully). Own up, now. Aren't you 
ashamed of yourself .'' 

Paul. Ashamed? The — mischief ! What for.? 

Soph. Oh — everything ; making me jealous, and all that. 

Paul {aside). That's the woman of it. 

Soph. And only think, Paul, I had really promised to marry 
that man. 

Paul. A promise, so gained, binds nothing. 

Soph. What will he say ? 

Paul. Whatever he pleases. 

Soph. What will he do ? 

Paul. Travel. His health requires a change. 

Soph. You will not quarrel with him .? Promise me. 

Paul. Well— no. I won't quarrel with him j but if he 
quarrels with me — 

Soph. O Paul ! 

Paul. Somebody will have an impressive funeral. 



42 RIO GRANDE. 

{Efiter Mamie and Cadwallader, c. d.) 

Mam. Another funeral .^ That makes two. 

Soph. Two ? 

Mam. That's what I said. 

Soph. Who was the other ? 

Mam. a dude. Caddie killed him. Didn't you, eh ? 

Cad. Ya-as. 

Mam. Eh } 

Cad. I mean "yes." 

Paul (c). You look as if you had met with an accident. 

Cad. (l.). Ya — yes. I have. I'm engaged to be maw — 
married. 

Soph. (r.). To you ? 

Mam. (r.). Cert. 

Soph. I congratulate you. But isn't he a — a — 

Mam. Not a bit of it. He's buried the dude, I tell you — 
sworn off on cigarettes, and is learning the American language. 

Soph. Wonderful ! How did it happen ? 

Mam. Why, you see, he wants a protector, and I have taken 
the contract. 

Cad, {to Paul). I suppose that blaw — blasted Spaniard will 
cut up wus — rusty — when he finds that you have cut him out. 

Paul. I really hope he will. {Going c.) 

{Enter Lawton and Segura, r. u. e.) 

Law. Capt. Wybert ! 

Paul. Sir ? 

Law. You will resign your commission and leave the fort 
within an hour ! 

Paul. Col. Lawton ! 

Law. (c). No words! When a man disgraces his uniform, he 
must lay it aside forever. You, whom I had looked upon as a son 
— who was betrothed to my daughter — whose honor I had 
thought above question — you of all men to be guilty of such con- 
temptible conduct. I believe I would do right to kill you in your 
tracks ! 

Paul. Contemptible conduct, sir ? What do you mean ? 

Seg. (r). He means that you have dared make love to his 
daughter, while your own wife was under his roof. {Sensa- 
tion.) 

Soph. His wife ! 

Paul. You miserable, devilish liar ! {Starts toivard Segura.) 

Law. Halt! (Paul j/<?/j-.) 

Paul. But, colonel ! Such a lie — 

Law. Silence ! He has spoken the truth ; for here I hold the 
certificate of marriage between his niece and yourself, duly signed 
and witnessed. The signature is your own — 



RIO GRANDE. 43 

{Enter Retta, l. u. e.) 

Seg. And here comes the poor girl, who will prove it. 

Paul. Retta, will you — 

Law. Silence, sir ! Retta," my child, come here. Look at this 
paper. {She takes it.) Do you know what it is ? 

Ret. Yes. {Slowly.') It is a marriage certificate. 

Seg. Exactly. 

Law. Have you seen it before ? 

Ret. Yes. 

Seg. To be sure. 

Law. Is that your own signature? 

Ret. Yes. 

Seg. Without doubt. See, I told you. 

Law. And then this is a genuine certificate of your marriage to 
Paul Wybert .? 

Ret. {tears papej-). No ! For we were never married ! 
{General ?novement. Sophia embraces Retta ; Cadwallader 
embraces Mamie ; Segura takes stage to R. front. Paul takes 
position near c. D.) 

Law. But that certificate — 

Ret. Is a cowardly, miserable forgery to which in a moment 
of foolish passion I wickedly lent my name. 

Seg. Don't believe her, Col. Lawton. The fool lies. 

Law. Excuse me, but I prefer to look elsewhere for the liar. 

Seg. {aside). Ah, curse them all! 

Law. I ask your pardon, my boy. 

V k.\5\^{ giving Ji and). Granted sir, freely. 

Mam. The show is over. Come on, Caddy. Ting-a-ling-a- 
ling! Down goes the curtain. 

Cad. Ya — yes ; just like a play, isn't it ? {They exit, c. d.) 

Seg. You astonish me. Col. Lawton. 

Law. Possibly. And I shall astonish you in a different way 
unless you leave at once. This is no place for sneaks nor forgers. 
{Exit, c. D. ; Segura turns and looks at Retta.) 

Ret. ( shrinking and grasping Sophia's arm). Oh ! 

Soph. What is it, dear ? Come with me. 

Seg. Stop ! 

Soph. Sir ! 

Seg. I am addressing my niece. You will come with me, if you 
please. {With meaning.) I have an interesting account to settle 
with you. 

Ret. {terrified). I dare not go. 

Seg. Come ! 

Ret. He will murder me. 

Paul {down c). No, he will not. You shall remain here. 

Seg. Dare you interfere with me ? 

Paul. At any time, sir ! 



44 RIO GRANDE. 

{Enter Biggs rt«^/ Johnnie, c. d.) 

Biggs. Here — stop tliis quarrel. Til fine you a thousand 
dollars. 

Seg. Go to the devil, you old fool ! 

Biggs. Wh-at ! I'll ^wq you a million — 

John. Oh, dry up ! {Pushes hii?i to R. u. E.) 

Seg. {to Retta). Come, I tell you. 

Paul {stopping her). Remain here. And, as for you {to 
Segura), if you leave at once you will avoid the unpleasant sensa- 
tion of being kicked out. {Tur?is away contemptuously.') 

Seg. Ah ! {Draws k)iife., rushes at Paul, and strikes. At 
the same instant Retta throws herself between them and receives 
the bloiu.) 

Paul. Scoundrel ! {Catches Retta /;/ left arm and knocks 
Segura down with right fist. Biggs and Johnnie bind and 
secure him.) 

John, {drawing pistol). If you breathe, you're dead! (Paul 
places Retta /;/ chair., l. c.) 

Ret. Paul — are — are you safe ? 

Paul. I am safe, Retta. 

Ret. Thank — God. Good-by, Paul. It is for the best — all 
for the best. I cannot see you, Paul — nor her. It is all so — so 
dark. Good-by — Paul. {Dies ; picture ; vntsic.) 



Slow Curtain. 



ENTERTAINMENTS FOR GIRLS, 



The Bqi of D rills. 

PART I. 

I 

A group of entertainments for stage or floor performance, by Mary B. 
HoRNE, the author of " The Peak Sisters," etc. 

Price, - - - 30 cents. 

CONTENTS. 

A NATIONAL FLAG DRILL (As presented by children in 
Belmont, Mass., at a Fair given by the Arachne, in December, i88S. 
Also as given by ten young ladies of the Unity Club, in Watertown, 
Mass., February 22, 1889.) 

THE SHEPHERD'S DRILL. 

THE TAMBOURINE DRILL (As given at a Rainbow Party 
by twelve little girls of the Third Congregational Society, Austin St., 
Cambridgeport, May 2, 1889. 

THE MOTHER GOOSE QUADRILLE (As danced at the Bel- 
mont Town Hall, May 10, 1889.) 



The n HRQNQTHANATQLETRON: 

OR, OLD TIMES MADE NEW. 

An entertainment in one act for sixteen girls, written for the Class ])ay 
Exercises at Dana Hall School, Wellesley, Mass., by two members 
of the Class of '87 and first performed before members of the school 
and their friends, June 18, 1887, and later at Ellsworth, Maine, 
April 6th, 1888. 

Price, -------35 cents. 

THE idea of this cleverly conceived but quaintly named piece may be 
briefly described as follows : The "Genius of the Nineteenth Cen- 
tury," although congratulating herself upon the achievements of the ap;c, 
still longs for some means of recalling to earth the prominent characters 
of the past. Her wish is granted by the "Inventress " who produces 
the "marvelous machine," the " Chronothanatoletron " (or Time and 
Death Annihilator), by means of which any woman of any epoch can b~ 
brought at once into the presence of the "operator." 



THK HIT OK THE SKASON. 

Oui QE iHE S hadow. 

A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. 

By A. VATTER and J. E. SPENCER. 

Price, - - - - 25 cents. 

Six male and three female characters. Time, the present. Scene, a 
New England factory village. First played at the Vereins-Halle of the 
Boylston Schulverein, Boston, May 27, 1889, under the title of 

"A NOBIvK SACRIFICE." 

ACT I. Morning. — Isabel's birthday. A husband's love and a husband's secret. 
" Can such joy endure ? " The shadow of the past clouds the light of the present. 
Army and Navy. A lesson in love. " A flank movement and a ' naval engagement.' " 
The army routed. Waldemar's confession. " T/ie 7nan yon would call father is an 
outcast.'''' The edge of the shadow. " I will stand by her side and defy the world." 
Questioning the fates. The foreign workman. The courage of innocence. "Here 
vasmyname; he will remember it." The Shadow Falls. 

ACT II. Afternoon. — Taking counsel. " Do your best, the happiness of us all de- 
pends upon you." Proposing under difficulties. Edith's dream. Father and daughter. 
" It is true, he is faithful." The shadow comes again. The Rat King. Isabel's 
scorn. '■'• Of whom are yoti speaking? Yotir husbatid V* A little light in the darkness. 
" It is too late — too late." Isabel learns the truth. A convict's wife. " My idol has 
turned to clay." Isabel's flight. The Captain takes a tumble. Waldemar's return. 
The deserted home. ^^ Alone ! Alone!" The blackness OF the Shadow. 

ACT III. Evening — " The cigarette of peace." A looker-on at love. " Great Jupiter! 
I can't stand it! " The terror of uncertainty. " He will surely come ; but when?" 
The meeting of old enemies. Brought to Bay. Accusation and recrimination.' 
" Cease your mockery, and tell me what you want." The price of silence. " Will 
money bring back the dead ? " A living tomb. The talisman of love. " Your child 
lives — but not for you." A father's grief. "Do not ruin her happiness as you 
have mine." The Sacrifice. " My little one is dead — to me !'^ The shadow 
lifts. " He is gone, never to return. " Husband and wife. A confession. "Why 
have you not trusted me?" A bond of love. Out of the Shadow. 

F orty M inutes with a C rank. 

A FARGE IN ONE AGT". 

By GEORGE M. BAKER. 
Price, _ - _ - - . - 15 cents. 

Eight male, three female characters, including a German, Irishman 
and Darkey. Originally published under a title of " The Seldarte Craze." 
and containing an admirable satire of certain elocutionary methods. 



MISS TIFFANY'S LATEST AND BEST. 



An Autograph Letter. 

A Comedy-Drama in Three Acts. 

By ESTHER B. TIFFANY. 

Author of "A Rice Pudding," "Anita's Trial," "The Way to His 
Pocket," and other favorite pieces. 

Five male and five female characters. Scenes, two interiors; costumes, 

modern and simple. Sparkling in dialogue, strong in 

interest, graceful in idea. 

Price, 35 ceuts. 

SYNOF^SIS. 

ACT I. Staunton's lodgings. Port-wine and poverty. Love's young dream. A voice 
from the tomb. "Why do you haunt nie?" A ruined life. The Autograph 
Letter. " I'll destroy it this very day." Troubles thicken. Tlie grasp of poverty. 
An idea. *' Give me one hour and you shall have your money." The key of the 
secretary. The seed of sorrow. 

ACT II. John Master's home. The temperance question. Two sides of an old maid. 
"Aunt Libby, you're a jewel." Reading the newspaper. "Black satin's in 
fashion." The bitter past. A story of a wasted life. The unanswered letter. An 
angel's visit. The letter answered after twenty years. The ring and its 
motto. " To love is to trust." The harvest of happiness. 

ACT III. At Staunton's again. Locking the stable door. White lies and white 
lilacs. A confession. '* T/ie letter never reached John Master's hands.'''' For 
love's sake. '"• He imist be told^ A daughter's happiness. "She will marry the 
man she loves, but for you.'' A sacrifice and a promise. Face to face. " I came 
to fling his treachery in his face, but it is the face of a dead man." False to the 
last. " For her sake, not yours, I lied." A noble foe. Young love and old. Ex- 
plained at last. " I am no man's wife." The Garnering of the Grain. 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Price, 15 cents. 

A comedy in one act, for two male and three female characters. Scene, an interior, 
costumes modern. All its requirements are simple to the last degree, and offer no difiS- 
culties. This little play is in Miss Tiffany's best vein, and admirably continues the series 
of parlor pieces, refined in humor and clever in plan, of which she is the author. Plays 
about an hour. 



JUST PUBLISHED. 



A Box 9F AeNKEYS. 

A PARLOR FARCE IN TWO ACTS. 

By GRACE L. FURNISS, 

[Reprinted from Harpers' Bazar, by kind permission of Messrs. Harper and Bros.] 

Two male and three female characters. Scene, an easy interior, the 
same for both acts ; costumes, modern. This clever little play of modern 
society, by the author of *' A Veneered Savage," and other popular 
pieces, is strong in interest, brilliant in dialogue, sprightly and graceful 
in movement. Under the title of " American Fascination " it was given 
several performances last season by the Criterion Dramatic Club, of 
Boston, with eminent success. It can be successfully played in a parlor 
without scenery, and is in all respects an admirable successor to Miss 
Tiffany's popular 

" RICEO F^UDDINO." 
Price, 15 cents. 



JHE Q OUNTRY g CHOOL 

AN ENTERTAINMENT IN TWO SCENES. 

By M. R. ORNE. 

For any number of characters, male or female, either or both, many or few, big or 
little. Scenery, simple ; costumes, those of our grandfather's days; time in playing, 
about forty minutes. The sketch carries the spectator back to his school-boy days in the 
little red school-house, and is sure to be very popular. 

Price, 15 cents. 

SYNOF^SIS: 

SCENE I. Introductory. Going to school. Hookin' apples and hookin' Jack. Jokes , 
and jollity. 

SCENE II. The old " deestrick skule " house. The scholars assemble. Calling the 
roll. Excuses. The new boys — " Julius Call and Billious Call." The stuttering 
boy. The infant class. " This is a warm doughnut ; tread on it." The arithmetic 
class. " Why does an elephant have a trunk ? " A history lesson. One reason why 
George Washington's birthday is celebrated. A visitor. Somebody's "ma." A 
very delicate child. Some fun about pickles. A visit from the school convnittee. 
A school examination in " history ^filoserpy, quotations, flirtations, an' kerdrilles." 
Head to foot. A very bad spell. Blackboard exercises. A motion song. A crush 
hat. More fun. A boy's composition on " boys," 



A NEW PLAY FOR FEMALE CHARACTFRS. 

A Companion to ''REBECCA'S TRIUMPHr 

ANITA'S TRIAL; 

Or, Our Girls in Camp. 

By Esther B. Tiffany, author of "A Rice Pudding," "That Patrick," 

" Young Mr. Pritchard," etc. 

Price, -_--___ 35 cents. 

This is a bright and sparkling comedy in three acts, for eleven 
female characters. Its story is entertaining, and its dialogue dis- 
tinguished by this author's delicate humorous touch. One scene only 
is necessary for the three acts — a camp in the woods, easily arranged. 
The dresses are simple and picturesque camping costumes. The enor- 
mous success of "Rebecca's Triumph " has created a demand for this 
sort of piece, to meet which we confidently present "Anita's Trial," 
in which is solved, with no less success than in its predecessor, the 
difficult problem of constructing a play of strong human interest with- 
out the assistance of male characters. 



The n HRONQTHANATQLETRO N: 

OR, OLD TIMES MADE NEW. 

An entertainment in one act for sixteen girls, written for the Class Day 
Exercises at Dana Hall School, Wellesley, Mass., by two members 
of the Class of '87 and first performed before members of the school 
and their friends, June 18, 1887, and later at Ellsworth, Maine, 
April 6, 1888. 



Price, 



THE PEAK SISTERS. 

A humorous entertainment for young ladies. Arranged by Maky B. 
HoRNE, Any number of ladies may take part, but seven only are 
necessary. No scenery; costumes very simple. This laughable 
trifle meets with invariable success wherever performed. 

Price, ---->. -15 cents. 



THE BOOK OF DRILLS. 

A ^roup of entertainments for female characters for stage or floor per 
formance, by Mary B. Horne, the author of " The Peak Sisters," etc. 



Price, 



WALTER a BAKER & CO,, Pilishers, 23 Winter SI, Boston, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
By the Author of "Out of 



■H 



The GR7^Kx^«iLS^i?l'f' 

Or, Caught in His Own Trap. 

By DAVID HILL, 

Author of "FoK(i:i> to thk War," "Out of his Sphere," 
"Placer Gold," "Bound by an Oath," Etc. 

Eleven male and two female characters and supers; six male characters onjy 
heiiig important. Costumes modern and eccentric rustic. Scenery may be made 
elaborate or simple, according to circumstances. John Haymaker is a good 
character, ]iew to the stage, and full of rustic humor and shrewdness. Alvin 
Joslin, as played by Mr, Davis, comes nearest to it in flavor. The other char- 
acters are excellent, generally rustic types and those of low life in the city, 
where the incidents of " Tbe Granger's" second act occur. The story is original 
in idea, and of great humoi'ous possibilities. Just the thing for a Grange enter- 
tainment. Can be played Avith the simplest accessories, yet Avill amply repay 
care in ge'^ing up. 

Price ... . . 85 Cents. 

ACT I. Scene 1. Highway. Farming a trade. " It takes more good, sound 
common sense to run a farm successfully than it does a national bank. A 
good shot. Evolution. Isaac as an informer. Hard to hear. " Measter 
Haymaker, dom it ! woolye stop tliat dinging and come here." Scene 2. 
The lovei-s. Philopeued. The penalty two kisses. Caught in the act. 
" Well, young man, when you are satisfied, please give me your attention." 
Wager between Ilichard and Haymaker. " I will wager that you will be out- 
Avitted at your own game inside of a month ; and your daughter's hand shall 
pay the penalty if I win." "And if you lose?" "If I lose, I will never 
trouble you or your daughter again." The acceptance. Scene 3. Hay- 
maker's house. Il-ichard unfolds his plan to Mrs. Haymaker and Minnie. 
They j )in him in the plot to outwit Hayniaker. Off to the city. 

ACT II. Scene 1. City street. " The Granger." Lots of fun. Taken for a 
greenhorn. New kind of game. Baiting the trap. How the pickpockets 
were caught. " Feel at this moment jest like speakin' in meetin', don't ye?" 
Held in tow. Off to the " tavern." Scene 2. City bar-room. How Hay- 
maker fooled the crowd. Releasing the pickpockets. Parting advice. 
" When you pick up another Granger on the street, don't take him for a 
pumpkin until you have tested the rind." How the traps were worked. 
Tough yarns. Richard and Minnie disguised. The song. Charita^. 
" Yengster, jest lead the Avay tu them there books." Scene 3. Room m 
tenement libuse. Evolution again. The supper. The drugged coffee. 
Haymaker falls asleep. Richard happy. "Hurrah! we together have out- 
witted John Haymaker." Minnie's keepsake. Haymaker caught in his own 
traps. 

A.CT III. Scene 1. Highway. Haymaker and Gushing. " Your're an old, 
m<^ddlesome, wizzled, knock-kueed and dried i\p jackass." Gushing aston- 
islied. " Wa'all, I swovv ! I'll be blowed if I ever seed Haymaker like that 
afore." Sckne 2. Haymaker's house. Waiting for Haymaker. "O my! 
there is faUier coming now." Crest-fallen but spunky. Haymaker's explan- 
ation. His admiration for those who outwitted him. "If they would 
confess I would give th^m a thousand dollars and a position for life." Taken 
at his word. Richard and Minnie again in disguise. The song. Haymaker 
dumbfounded. " Well, it's beginnng to dawn upon me that I'm a confounded 
old fool." Fulfilling the contract. Haymaker's closing words. "Though 
I still advocate the theory of evolution, it never again shall be the principal 
tool to catch John Haymaker in his own trap." 



Walter H. Baker & Co., 23 Winter St., Boston. 

3. J. PAr''HII U «. CO., PRINTERS, 222 FRANKLIN ST., BOSTON. 



